


learning to breathe

by Everydaynerd



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Character Death, Dark, F/M, Kid Fic, Mentions of Suicide, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Percabeth AU, Rape Recovery, percabeth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-05-15 18:29:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 59,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14795702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everydaynerd/pseuds/Everydaynerd
Summary: Annabeth is running-from people, from her past, from her own mind; drowning in the fears that plague her as she works herself to exhaustion caring for her newborn son. Percy is trying-to pass his classes and keep his scholarship, to pay his rent, to care for his mom; to figure out the brilliant but haunted young mother a floor below him. percabeth au.





	1. first sight

The crying woke Annabeth less than an hour after her head hit the pillow.

She shouldn't have been surprised—she and the universe had never been on particularly good terms, and sleep was especially scarce with a newborn, but she'd finished her work before 3 a.m. for the first time in weeks and had hoped for more than four hours of sleep. The fumes she was running on weren't strong enough to keep her going like this forever.

Slowly getting to her feet, she approached the secondhand playpen, gently lifting her son. His sobs quieted, but didn't stop, and after checking to make sure he wasn't hungry and didn't need to be changed, she set him down just long enough to slip a hoodie over her head and wrap a soft blanket around his tiny two-month-old body. It was going to be one of those nights—the ones where nothing would calm him but walking, her voice soothing him with stories, for at least an hour. She might as well do the meandering outside.

She slipped her phone and pepper spray into her hoodie pocket before locking the apartment door behind her, looking around the building warily. They'd finally been able to move to a better part of town when her lease at the former apartment building (where her inability to sleep hadn't been helped by constant fear for her and Nikolas's safety), and while all of her research indicated that their new residence was a much less worrisome place to live, she couldn't help but feel on edge.

Unsurprising. She hadn't been safe since her father had died ten years prior.

She stilled for a moment, wondering about whether or not stepping just outside at night would be a terrible idea, but as soon as her movement paused Nik let out a screech, and she rushed downstairs for fear of pissing off the neighbors on their first night in the building.

She shivered from her first step into the brisk air that constituted January in New York. The street was by no means quiet, and she began to meander along the dimly lit sidewalk while whispering to her baby about Nefertiti, needing a new subject for her son's bedtime stories now that she'd run through the tales of Odyssesus.

She worried about him being in the cold, but hopefully they wouldn't be out for too long, and she had him well bundled. Taxis pulled up to the curb as loud passengers staggered from their seats loudly, perhaps belatedly celebrating the new year. Her new apartment building housed many college students, so she caught wind of many drunken words of dreading class hungover the coming morning. She had a shift at the diner in merely three hours now, so she could sympathize with their exhaustion.

Had things worked out a bit differently, she would likely be in their shoes too.

Under half an hour later, Nik was sound asleep and her eyes revolted, attempting to flutter closed. She went back inside, pushing the elevator call button with more force than necessary at the thought of her bed all the way on the fourteenth floor, and heard rapid footsteps approaching just as she stepped through the elevator doors.

"Wait, hold it, please!"

Her heart sped up at the deep male voice, but the last thing she wanted was an enemy in the building, and she stuck the button to keep the doors open.

At the sight of the broad shouldered young man who'd called after her, however, fear spiked within her and she regretted the attempt to be neighborly. He's dressed all in black, a worn leather jacket thrown over a tight v-neck and black pants; his hair is pitch too, the only brightness to him the tanned skin of his face surrounding bright sea-green eyes that keep jumping around like his line of sight can't stay still.

"Thanks," he mumbled, pressing the button for the seventh floor himself. "I know it wouldn't have been much longer to wait, but I have an eight a.m. class and I just got off work, and those few extra minutes of sleep just sound so perfect."

She remained tense, hoping not responding would encourage him to leave her alone, but felt his gaze shift on to her.

"I don't think I've seen you around—I'm Percy, Percy Jackson. 15F." He starts to reach a hand out, but stops himself, blushing. "Your hands are obviously full, sorry."

His easy tone relaxes her somewhat. "Nice to meet you. I'm Annabeth—we just moved in today." She's pretty sure he notices that she doesn't give him her own apartment number, but the light smile he responds with doesn't seem to mind.

"And who's this little one?"

"This is Nik."

"Short for Nicholas?"

She nods, clarifying, "Yes, but with a k—I wanted to name him for Tesla, but I figured naming a kid Nikola in the twenty-first century is probably a death sentence."

Percy snorts. "Wish my mom thought like that. She sic-ed me with Perseus without a care in the world as to how that would go over in middle school." He makes eye contact again, pulling that smile right back out. Being in such close quarters with him has her shaking like a leaf, but that smile is almost infectious. "So, Tesla, huh? Isn't that the pigeon guy?"

A laugh escapes her. "You could call him that. Personally, I remember him by his inventions and philosophies—but yes, he did quite like pigeons."

The elevator light blinks just before the doors open, and as nice as Percy seems, she's relieved to be on her floor—safety, space, and sleep all just a few yards away. "This is me."

Percy waves as she steps into the hallway. "It was nice to meet you, Annabeth. If you or Nik need anything, feel free to come by. A friend, a cousin, and I all room together, and someone's normally around if you need a hand."

"Thanks, Percy. Have a good night." The word 'night' is clipped by the elevator doors sliding shut, and she takes her first deep breath since getting on the elevator, the hand not on Nik sliding from her its instinctive place on her pepper spray to her keys inside her pocket.

She double and triple checks the locks before carefully laying Nik back in the playpen, silently begging him not to wake back up as she climbs into the twin bed in the corner of the studio apartment.

The conversation with Percy has rattled her; he seems genuine, and it's promising to have an acquaintance in the building so soon. She won't go to his apartment, of course—but maybe the next time she sees Piper, the only friend she's made since running full speed from Virginia eight months ago, she can ask if she's ever seen him around campus.

The easygoing boy with the bright, tired eyes is the last thing running through her overworked mind before she falls right back into REM, her body too desperate for the two and a half hours she might still squeeze in to worry about tomorrow.


	2. beating heart|bleeding heart

A knock sounded on the door, and Annabeth's breath caught in her throat.

They'd found her. She'd known using her real name was a bad idea, knew they would catch up eventually— _focus_ , _Annabeth, make a plan._ Climbing down a fourteen story fire escape with a baby was not going to happen, but maybe she could—

"Annabeth?" _Percy?_ What the hell was he doing here?

She approached the door cautiously, pressing her eye to the smudged peephole: sure enough, it was him. She'd only seen him the once, two weeks ago and bleary eyed, but even in the crew neck and basketball shorts he now wore something about him was stuck on her brain.

Opening the door, she got a better view of him, and saw for the first time the middle aged woman standing next to him. She wasn't tall by any means, brown hair streaked with gray, but her blue eyes sparkled brightly and despite the lack of resemblance she immediately knew this was Percy's mother.

"Hey." He blushed—the six foot something lean machine of a man actually _blushed._ "I—sorry to just show up like this, I heard about the new girl in 14C and figured it was you, and we wanted to bring you these."

Her attention is drawn to the container in his hands, which she hesitantly grabs, opening it only to be more confused.

"They're chocolate chip, Mom's special recipe—the best you'll ever have." He smiles earnestly, blushing again when his mother reaches a hand up to squeeze his arm.

"But—why are they blue?"

For the first time since she's met him (which, yes she's only had about ten minutes of face time with the guy, but she's a pretty good judge of character and it's clear this guy radiates positivity everywhere he goes), his eyes flash briefly with something darker.

"It's just a tradition, something Percy and I have been doing since he was nine or so," his mother explains with a gentle smile. "I'm Sally Jackson, Percy's mom. We wanted to welcome you to the building; I don't actually live here, but apparently I didn't teach my son manners very well, or he would've done it more than a week ago," she chides, turning her gaze to the man towering over her, her eyes narrowed.

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Jackson." Annabeth realizes she's still awkwardly holding the open cookie tin, and upon hearing Nik begin to babble from within the apartment something about the softness in the woman's face possess her to say, "I'll just put these in the kitchen, then, come on in."

The woman lights up, shushing Percy as he stutters that they don't want to intrude and entering behind the blonde.

Nik's cooing turns to a more disgruntled babble, his signature mommy-I-want-you-or-I'll-screech tone, so Annabeth quickly places the container on the counter and heads to scoop her son from his place on the floor, caged in by pillows and blankets (despite the fact that he won't crawl, or even roll over, for a while yet) with a light up toy in front of him.

"Hi, honey, Momma's here." Nik smiles up at her, his eyes—the ones that used to make her feel sick on another but have become her favorite on her little boy's face—focused on her.

"Oh my lord, aren't you precious! Who's this?" Annabeth looks up to see Sally's entire face filled with joy at the sight of Nik, and her heart swells.

"This is Nik—he's two months as of last week," she tells the older woman quietly.

"He's named after the pigeon guy," Percy says wisely, and Sally's laugh reverberates through the room.

"Could I hold him for a moment? It's been so long," Sally simpers, and Annabeth is at war with herself. Sally seems nice—amazing, really, if the last five minutes are any indication—but only three other people have ever held Nik, and Annabeth watched all of them like a hawk. The two who work at the daycare she has to send him to while she works, she spied on for _days_ before she allowed within ten feet of him; Nik is her life, and she would do anything, risk anything, to keep him safe, to keep anything remotely bad far from him. She already has.

Sally's been nothing but polite, but Annabeth knows herself, and there's no way she's going to relinquish her grip on the baby until she knows the woman better. She braces herself to say no, cringing as she hopes the older woman doesn't lash out at the rejection, but before she can get the word out, Percy speaks.

"Come on, Mom, he just woke up, the kid probably wants to cuddle with her. Besides, I happen to know you almost never let go of me when _you_ were the one with a newborn."

Oh, thank god, he's given her an out. Sally scowls playfully at her grown son, but his eyes are on Annabeth's, and given the way he's analyzing her she has a feeling his perfect timing was not a coincidence.

"So tell us about yourself Annabeth, what brings you here?" Sally asks, settling herself onto the couch.

"Here?" Annabeth croaks. _She knows. She knows I ran, she's going to try to be helpful and track them down and they'll come after us._

"To the building," she clarifies, and the anxiety mounting in Annabeth dissipates.

"Oh, well, when I moved to New York from home I didn't have enough to get a place here, but my lease is finally up now and I really wanted to get us to a better part of town now that Nik is here."

She'd been a month shy of eighteen when she'd found out about Nik, the bean growing inside of her, and knew staying at home wasn't an option any longer, even if it meant living on the streets till her birthday when she could finally sign a lease (which it did).

"Did you move here to be near family once he was born?"

She has to hold back a bitter laugh at the opposite of the truth, and shakes her head definitively. "No, for school, actually." _In short_. "I'm taking classes at NYU—well, I say _at_ , but they're all online so that I can do the work from home."

"Oh, how wonderful! More time with this precious one before he gets too big and doesn't let you kiss his cheek in public." Sally winks at her as Percy rolls his eyes.

"Mom, I _always_ let you smother me in public. Don't lie to her or I'll pull up the footage from my last meet, which _aired on television_ you sneak."

A laugh from his mother. "Fine, he's right—Percy goes to NYU too, on a swimming scholarship," she tells the young woman, beaming proudly.

"No other way they would've let me in," Percy mutters, but the smirk on his face makes Annabeth think he might not mind that so much. "They're trying to appear more well-rounded, so they've been recruiting a bunch of athletes to try and improve their ranking."

"That's really impressive—you must swim like a fish."

"My little guppy, alright," Sally teases, stroking the top of his head as yet another blush alights on his cheeks.

"Don't you have any hobbies besides embarrassing me," he half-jokingly begs.

"Not a single one," his mother replies with a grin before turning back to Annabeth. "Well dear, it's been lovely meeting you—we have to get going so I can feed this one and his friends before they start munching on the furniture."

Annabeth rises to walk them to the door, "It was really great to meet you too—and thank you so much for the cookies, I'll wash the container and bring it by as soon as I can."

Percy waves an arm easily, "Don't worry about it, she has a million of those things, whenever you get the chance is fine."

Sally leans in, and so only Annabeth can hear, she says, "If you need anything at all, go ahead and call me—being a single mother is hard, and terrifying, and you never feel like you're doing anything right. I'm happy to help if you ever need anything or have any questions at all."

Annabeth swallows thickly. She's known Sally for half an hour, and she's already been more motherly than the woman who raised Annabeth was in her entire life. "Thank you. Really, that means a lot."

Sally smiles, "Of course, sweetie. I'll have Percy give you my number the next time he sees you. Bye, little one." She gives a little wave to Nik's sleeping form. "Bye, Annabeth, have a wonderful rest of your day."

Annabeth bids her farewell, and she and Percy make awkward eye contact before he waves casually, and the two walk away, leaving Annabeth to close her door and wonder why she feels so strangely every time she interacts with one of the Jacksons.

\

/

\

Two days later, Annabeth can hardly keep her eyes open—but it's another five till her day off, so she'll just have to suck it up. It's 9 a.m. on a Monday, one of the busier days of the week where breakfast is concerned, as everyone is too tired and dreading the coming week to cook at home.

"Hi y'all, welcome to Penny's, I'm Annabeth and I'll be—" The first thing that makes her stop talking is the sight of Percy, eyes widening in surprise and recognition. Percy, here—where she works.

The thing that makes her jaw drop, though, is the sight of the girl across from him. Stick straight black hair sliced at the chin, bright blue eyes, but the thing that really makes her heart ache is the crooked nose—the one that was broken by a would-be child abductor who'd nearly had seven year old Annabeth inside his van until she'd intervened; it had never gotten the chance to heal properly.

"Hey, Annabeth, I didn't realize you worked here! This is my cousin—

"Thalia." Despite the wonder, the love, the apology in her mind, the word comes out in a whisper conveying none of the above.

"Hey, kiddo."

Her raspy voice takes Annabeth back to the best time in her life: the first time she was on the streets, away from Helen and her parade of men, maybe a bit hungrier than she should've been but happier than ever with Thalia and Luke.

After, when the cops cornered them and Annabeth and Luke were sent back to their "loving" homes whilst investigation into Thalia's disappearance led to her being put in foster care, they'd exchanged emails and sworn to stay in touch until they were older, until Luke turned eighteen and could attempt to file for custody of them (an unlikely dream, but one she'd wished on every candle and star for more years than she should've).

But like everything other speck of happiness in Annabeth's life till Nikolas, Helen ruined it.

"Thals, I'm so—I—I tried, but she—" she gives up trying to excuse herself, closing her eyes in anticipation of how much Thalia must hate her for going ghost.

But the next thing she knows, familiar arms are wrapped around her, and while she initially stiffens, once she opens her eyes and convinces herself it's the older sister she never got to have, she returns the hug and starts sobbing.

"I know. I always figured. It's okay. God, I can't believe I finally found you." Thalia squeezes her as she tries to remind herself to _chill the fuck out, you're at work and you're making a scene and this is not the way to convince Thalia she still wants to be a part of your life._ "Holy shit, Annabeth, you're taller than me, that's not even _fair_!"

The exclamation draws a laugh out of her, and the two release each other as Thalia sits back down, but Annabeth doesn't take her eyes off of her, just praying to keep her in sight as long as possible. _Thalia_.

"Hi, that was super cute and all, but Annabeth how are you unlucky enough to know Pinecone Face here?" For a minute there, Annabeth completely forgot Percy's existence, but his interlude brings him back to the forefront of her gaze just in time to see Thalia elbow him in the ribs.

"Shut up, Kelp Head, Annabeth and I have been family for longer than I've known you existed."

Hearing her say it for the first time in ten, almost eleven years— _family,_ just like they'd always sworn—is probably the second best moment of Annabeth's life, after holding Nik for the first time. She feels a huge smile stretch across her face, and the look Percy gives her; she doesn't know what to label it, maybe baffled?

Percy presses a hand to his chest, wounded. "Hurtful, cuz."

"Cuz?" Annabeth asks, shocked. "You—you found them?"

Thalia grins. "That I did. Mom died when I was eighteen and mentioned who my father was in her will—she left everything to him, naturally—and so I finally tracked his side of the family down and got saddled with Percy, here. Nico, too—he's our other cousin, we normally drag him to brunch but his boyfriend had a business conference this week, so he tagged along—you'll have to meet him next time."

"I—that's _amazing_ , Thalia, I can't believe you actually found them. Finally."

"Me too. But how do you know this idiot, anyway?" she asks, tilting her head towards her cousin.

"Annabeth is our new neighbor I told you out, the one Mom and I went to see Saturday when you were making a ruckus about not getting your food soon enough."

Annabeth feels her face heat up at the memory. "I swear I'm going to return the cookie tin."

Thalia laughs. "Kiddo, I promise, Sally couldn't care less how long it takes you. The woman is an angel—the only reason I was in your building, anyway. I have my own apartment across town, and god knows Percy and Nico's place is a mess, so I normally make them come to me unless she's over."

But then Thalia's eyebrows scrunch together, and Annabeth can _see_ the wheels in her brain turning, same and always, and knows she's in trouble.

"Percy," Thalia says slowly, still looking Annabeth dead in the eyes. "You said the new girl had a baby."

 _Shit._ Thalia knows, and as nice as Percy seems, this is not a conversation she ever, ever, _ever_ wants to have anywhere near him, or at all.

"She does," Percy confirms nervously. "Super cute kid—I know I say that about ever baby, but seriously, this one is commercial-cute."

Annabeth smiles lightly. "Thanks. I think so too."

"Annabeth." Thalia's tone is icy. "Please tell me it wasn't—"

"Thalia, I have to get back to work in any case, this isn't a discussion to have here."

"Even now?" She completely ignores Annabeth's words.

Annabeth bites her lip and doesn't answer, knowing she's never lied to Thalia and never will, and even if she did, Thalia would know the truth anyway. She reads her like a book.

"She doesn't know where I am now—she doesn't even know that I applied to NYU, so she'll never come here to look." Hoping to quell the rage visibly coursing through Thalia, she reaches into her apron for the burner phone she keeps solely in case of an emergency at Nik's daycare, opening it to show Thalia the picture of a smiling Nik on the home screen. "He—he's named Nik. Nikolas Luke." Thalia swallows, and Annabeth continues. "I thought he was going to be a girl—he was never in the right position during an ultrasound to see, and I guess I was in the thirty percent of mothers whose intuition is wrong, because I have a baby blanket with _Athena Thalia_ embroidered in."

The diversion does its job, because Thalia presses a hand to her mouth, allowing Annabeth to catch sight of the tattoos snaking onto her hands.

"Luke? As in your Luke?" Percy ponders, and Thalia's nod only has Annabeth's eyes widening.

"You still talk to him?"

Thalia blushes, for the first time Annabeth has ever witnessed. "We, uh, we kept in touch, after everything—fell apart. We actually," she clears her throat nervously, "We're sort of together. He moved here a year before I did."

"Annabeth!" Her manager calls impatiently, and she knows she's been standing here for way too long and the tips from the rest of her tables are going to be trash, but she hesitates long enough for Thalia to grip her wrist.

"We—we'll catch up soon. I can't wait to meet him. Luke will want to too."

Annabeth's heart thumps with joy at the thought of having both of the people who've ever loved her with her again, and she nods. "Definitely. I'll give you my number before you guys leave. I—" She can't finish the sentence; how can she encapsulate her joy at seeing Thalia, her love for her that hasn't shrunk in the slightest?

"I know. Me too, Beth."

A laugh escapes her at the nickname Thalia always knew she hated.

She's on cloud nine the rest of her shift, but Thalia has always been stubborn, and Annabeth knows it's only a matter of time until they have the conversation about how Nik came to be. Dread fills her at the thought alone—Thalia has always been like a dark angel of vengeance, and if Luke catches wind—

 _Still. Thalia. Thalia and Luke._ Her family. Here—and her eighteen, so no one can tear them apart this time. Nothing, not even the thought of Helen, can darken her day.


	3. bonding

Annabeth was nine hours into a fifteen hour shift, her feet aching and head pounding while she fumed about the table of middle aged women she'd bent over backwards for only to be left a five percent tip (because seriously? She made $2 an hour before tips, she had a baby to feed and rent to pay, and the women carrying Prada bags couldn't be decent enough to leave a standard tip?), when she heard Piper's familiar voice cooing.

Which was confusing, because Piper was watching Nik for the day.

She looked up to see her best friend grinning from the doorway of the near-empty diner, baby quiet in her arms as he stared at the lights (Annabeth was pretty sure her son loved looking at lights more than he loved her).

"Piper, what on earth are you doing here?"

"Don't worry, my favorite nephew and I are just fine," she reassured the blonde, handing over the tiny infant immediately. "We were heading to the park so he could get some fresh air so I figured we'd stop by on our way."

Piper and she had worked together during her first shift at Penny's, and she didn't know what she would've done without her in the months since. When they met, Annabeth had only been in the city a month, surviving off of soup kitchens and free food from filling out every survey on every receipt on the library nearby's computers; while she was doing her best, she knew she looked like a mess, but Piper didn't even blink. She had run full speed from California the day after she graduated, and, despite her father's millionaire status, willingly estranged herself from the man who thought wealth a substitute for love, and had busted her ass at Penny's ever since.

Most people who grew up well off couldn't handle sudden poverty, but Piper took life in stride and hadn't complained once since the abrupt change. She worked almost as many hours as Annabeth, and almost every week took care of Nik on her day off—she was the best family Annabeth could ever ask for for her son.

"You didn't tell me Leo lived in your building, chickadee," Piper chides.

"That's probably because I've never heard of Leo in my entire life."

She doesn't turn to look at her best friend, but she can _feel_ Piper's eyes rolling. "He lives in a triple a floor above you, he's in the improv group I'm in on Thursday nights. Anyway, then his roommate, mister tall, dark, and incredibly handsome swimmer man walks out, and you _definitely_ have heard of him, because he said you'd met a couple of times—the nerve of you, not telling me."

"I thought you only had eyes for Jason," Annabeth deflects, mentioning Piper's best friend back in California, a year behind her in school because of some kind of drama when he was younger involving a kidnapping; she'd never asked for the details, because it wasn't her business, but she knew something crazy had gone down and kept him out of school until he was twelve, so the fact that he was finishing up this semester meant the kid was insanely dedicated.

"Well yes, of course, and one day once he graduates and moves over here too he will realize we're meant to be and we'll end up married, but until that day comes I am free to appreciate the scenery." The girls giggle, and Nik smiles up at them.

"You think Aunt Piper is funny, don't you honey?" Annabeth gives him one last squeeze before handing him back over to the brunette in question, drawing her notebook out of her apron. "Alrighty, you two skedaddle before Marnie comes out and fires me for fraternizing on the job."

"We're going, we're going—we might order a pizza, so I'll leave the leftovers in the fridge for you when you come over."

"Thanks, Pipes. You're the love of my life."

"Don't I know it," Piper winks. "Say bye to Momma, Nik!" She reaches to move one of his hands in a semblance of a wave, leaving Annabeth with a smile on her face as her heart exits the diner.

Marnie, Annabeth's manager and a woman in her fifties who'd practically ran the diner for as long as anyone could remember, came over and clucked her tongue. "You're in trouble when that one gets older—when they're that cute, you never want to tell them no."

"Don't I know it. The doctor is telling me to start letting him cry it out when I put him in bed, and trying not to cave is the hardest thing I do every day."

"It gets easier. When they the attitude develops, you have to remind yourself _not_ to say no when they're misbehaving." Having raised five boys herself, Marnie was pretty much Annabeth's go to where anything Nik-related was concerned, so she didn't doubt it. "But you're a great mom, you'll figure that all out." She squeezed Annabeth's free hand, then waved towards the table that had just walked in. "Now back to work, lazy bones!"

/

\

/

It was 2 a.m. and Percy had every intention of going straight home—the 15 button in the elevator was lit, really—but when the box stopped on the fourteenth floor and he saw the crumpled blonde sitting in the hallway, his chest tugged him out without a second's pause.

"Annabeth?" She looked up at him, rapidly wiping puffy eyes with the sleeves of her heavily oversized hoodie—the only thing she ever seemed to wear outside of work. "Hey, I—sorry, I know we don't really know each other, it's just, asking if you're okay would be stupid, but—is there anything I can do?" His voice was pleading by the end of the mangled sentence that escaped him.

"No, that's—that's really sweet of you Percy, but no." She cleared her throat. "I'm being ridiculous, really, nothing is that bad, but—I haven't slept in two days, and Nik is really sick, but I've already taken off two days of work to take care of him and if I don't go in tomorrow there's no way I'll make enough to pay rent this month."

His eyes widened. "God, that sucks." He sat down next to her awkwardly, attempting to come up with something to say. "His daycare won't take care of him when he's sick?"

"No," she shook her head, "They don't want it to spread—and besides, there's so many kids there that to bring him when his immune system is down would be like feeding him to the wolves."

"Damn, I wouldn't have even thought about that." A moment of silence. "Is he sleeping right now?"

"Yeah, he just—" cries erupt from within the apartment behind her, and she scowls at him. "You jinxed this. It took me hours to get him down."

"Sorry, I have terrible luck and it tends to be contagious."

The corners of her lips twitch upward, but she holds back the smile—still, he's gotten her to look slightly less distraught, so he's counting it as a win.

"Me too—maybe us being near each other is a bad idea," she teases.

He presses a hand to his chest, mock affronted, "And here I was prepared to sacrifice for the sake of our friendship—besides, don't two negatives cancel into a positive?"

"I'll give you that," she concedes, rocking back on her heel and bouncing the crying baby.

He's seen her with Nik before, of course; it's clear he tends to make her uncomfortable, so he holds himself back from shouting to her from across the building often, but he sees her around all the time), usually clutching Nik to her chest like a mama bear ready to fight to the death at the first hint of danger.

And she's beautiful. Always—it was the first thing he noticed, dropping on him like a brick when he saw her for the first time, but with Nik, when it's so clear how much she loves him, how much she's sacrificed for him (Percy's not an idiot, and he doesn't think it's a coincidence that she moved to New York mere months after Nik was conceived, or that she's never mentioned her family, or the other half of his genes' source). It pulls on his heartstrings (and other parts of his anatomy, in all honesty, because really: the woman is a goddess), not to mention Nik's adorable face—every time he sees the kid there's another spark of personality forming.

He opens his mouth to say something, keep the conversation with this woman who's captivated him for a month now, but he has no clue what to say. More than anything, he wants to learn all about her, how she became this vibrant, independent woman who works harder than anyone he's ever known (including his mother, his idol).

Annabeth is a mystery, though, and she's made it clear she doesn't like talking about herself, so maybe the answer is to open up first.

"I bartend," he offers aimlessly, but she finally ( _finally_ ) produces that small smile like she knows what he's doing and appreciates it. "I got an athletic scholarship—no other way I would've gotten into NYU, or been able to afford any kind of college, because I'm incredibly bad at school, but you need a degree for all the marine biology work I want to do someday. But like, obviously commuting from Manhattan wasn't going to happen, and with all of the debts—" he cuts off abruptly, looking up at Annabeth; he hadn't intended to mention Gabe, but something about the understanding on Annabeth's face, and knowing from Thalia she ran away when she was seven ( ** _SEVEN, jesus_** _)_ makes him think she might know something about going through shit.

"My ex-stepdad, he was…awful. Among a lot of other things, he gambled, badly—and with my mom's assets, credit card, you name it. He's finally out of our lives, but debt collectors are hounding her for two hundred grand, and since he made her put his name on every account too, it's legally her problem now. Bartenders make the biggest tips that I can put towards that after rent—not that much though, being that I've been in college two years and barely made a dent in it."

Annabeth shakes her head, eyes closed with that righteous anger that always seems a step beneath her skin. "That's so fucked up. No one should be able to get away with…and to _Sally_ , god, she's the sweetest human I've ever met. What the hell." She meanders about the tiny (but not cluttered) studio apartment, Nik finally calmed down in her arms, though Percy can see the worry in her face as she checks the warmth of his forehead again. "Half of me wants to go to law school for the sole purpose of putting monsters like that behind bars."

"What _are_ you going to school for?"

"Architecture." Her face lights up, and she looks to him contemplatively, debating whether or not to say more. The thought of him baring his soul a minute ago wins out, and she sits on the futon (that serves as her bed) at his side, twisting her torso towards him. "My dad and I were never close; I don't think he really wanted kids, and after my mom died in childbirth he was kind of clueless and kind of did the bare minimum, but I think he loved me, in his own weird way. He died when I was five—like, a _month_ after marrying my stepmom, but they still gave her custody when he was gone. And she hated me; while my dad was alive I was a reminder of the wife he'd loved and lost before she came along, and once he was gone I was just a mouth to feed and a responsibility she didn't want. She took everything I cared about—we moved from the only home I'd ever known, friends, she gave away all of my books, just…" she trails off, voice thick.

"Everything. She tore it all down. By the time I was seven, I'd had enough, and figured anything was better than being there; that's when I ran away and met Thalia and Luke. They were the closest thing I'd ever had to a family, and we made it almost a year before CPS caught up to us. Best time in my life, hands down. When they brought us in, and Luke and I got sent back home and Thalia went into foster care, we made a pact that we would always stay in touch, gave each other emails and phone numbers, swore to talk every day.

"But Helen…she was so pissed that I'd made her look bad, made her get investigated, that I'd run away, that I'd been so happy. She burnt the papers with their information, had the phone company block their numbers, went to crazy lengths to make sure I would never be able to speak to them again. Told me after a couple years that even if I ever _did_ find them, they would hate me for ignoring them forever, resent me for being so young and probably the reason we were caught. And I believed her," she smiles bitterly. "Anyway, after her destroying everythingI've ever had, I decided I wanted to build something permanent, something no one could ever take away. So, architecture."

Percy opens his mouth to offer his own condolences, even though it's clear there's a lot of chunks of her story in between the lines of what she's told him, but she waves away whatever words he was about to attempt to string together. "Don't apologize, we're in the same boat. Poster children for the evil-stepparents-are-real movement."

He bursts out laughing, and she does too, and then he bites his lip. "Could I—could I hold him?" he asks, gesturing to Nik.

Annabeth nods slowly. "Make sure you keep your arm or hand under his neck at all times, he doesn't have the muscles to support his head yet."

He nods seriously, preemptively putting his arms into position as she carefully nestles the baby into them.

Percy sucks in a breath. Nik is as light as a pigeon, his tiny body less cumbersome than a backpack, and his heart swells with some kind of instinctive awe at the sight of the vulnerable little baby in his arms. "Oh my god, he's perfect. This is the most amazing thing in my entire life."

Annabeth graces him with another small smile (and he decides right then it's going to be his mission to both witness and be the cause of as many of them as possible), touched by his enthusiasm. "I think so too."

"You—god, Annabeth, you _made_ this little guy, how is that even real? You grew him like a plant and now there's just this whole _person._.." he trails off, babbling incessantly, and she lets out a semblance of a giggle.

"Your first time holding a baby?"

"Yeah. This is the coolest thing in my whole life, oh my god, I have to tell my mom."

Percy comes off as intimidating: muscular, typically dressed in the black standard bartender attire that makes him seem separate from this plane; right now, though, his eyes are alight with such a childish joy, fathomless wonder, that Annabeth melts. The scene before her is just perfectly wholesome, there's no other word for it.

"I could—" he starts speaking nervously. "I could watch him tomorrow. So you could go to work. I mean, I know I don't know anything about babies, but I would try really hard, and I could call my mom if anything happens, and I don't have any classes and there was supposed to be a meet so I didn't get put on the schedule and—yeah. I mean, only if you're comfortable with it, because obviously he's like, your _kid_ , and you don't want to just let some rando have him for the day, which is so totally fair because I can't imagine how scary it is to trust anyone with your freaking baby, but I would keep such a close eye on him, and I know where the nearest clinic is if he were to get any sicker and—yeah." He sucks in a deep breath, looking up at her anxiously.

"I…Percy, that's so great of you to offer, but I couldn't impose on you like that, and he's really cranky when he's not feeling well…"

"That's okay! I know some lullabies, and I have literally nothing better to do and his existence is just the most crazy amazing thing and I kind of just get the feeling if you don't get some sleep soon you're going to collapse. Sorry."

She bites her lip, because while she should say no—no one but Piper and the daycare workers has ever watched him, and she was so careful and overbearing before leaving them alone with him, the truth is her eyes physically hurt from staying open so long, her limbs are shaky and weak, and the amount of money to her name at the moment is not enough to keep a roof over Nik's head. It's not really a choice.

"Okay, if you're sure—"

"Yes! I'll be so careful, Annabeth, and we'll watch movies and I'll check his temperature every hour and make sure he eats and all of the things," he assures her earnestly.

"Okay. I have to leave at six, so I'm going to try to sleep now, but if you can be here at around five forty—" aka approximately three hours from now, she reminds herself with an internal groan, "—I'll show you where everything is in the apartment and give you the spare key for the day."

"I won't let you down," he promises.

\

/

\

Sally mentioned when they met that Percy tends to run at least ten minutes late at all times, so when he knocked quietly on her door at 5:43 Annabeth was pleasantly surprised.

She's been anxious all day, hopeful that Nik is feeling better, that everything went well, that Percy didn't get fed up with the crying and throw him out the window and into the bed of a truck driving to Canada and—

 _Rational, Annabeth, be fucking rational_.

When she turns the key in her lock, she's worried by the silence within until she enters to find the two boys passed out on the futon: Percy, drooling in his sleep with his head and upper torso propped up on the two pillows, Nik breathing quietly in his place laying across Percy's chest. The sight has her heart brimming with delight (and really, if she didn't already have a kid, would give her one hell of a case of baby fever).

Percy's laptop (at least, she assumes it's Percy's because it's not hers but sits on the coffee table beside him and has a sticker of a purple trident with the words **"NYU SWIM"** in big letters across the bottom.

The kitchen is a bit messier than she left it—the formula she buys for when others have to feed Nik while she's gone and doesn't have any pumped milk frozen, four dirty bottles, a pizza box with three slices remaining, and a two liter of mountain dew are strewn across the table.

"Percy," she whispers, shaking his shoulder gently.

"Wassamata Imup," he mumbles, then jerks awake. "Annabeth, hey."

"Hi," she replies with a smile. "Was everything okay?"

"Peachy," he says with a smile. "His fever was gone by two, and I thought about bringing him by _Penny's_ so you would stop freaking out—don't deny it, I know you were—" She closes her mouth and motions for him to continue. "—and he drank fourteen ounces, and we watched _Finding Nemo_ and _The Little Mermaid_."

The smile on his face as he relays his day with her son is probably the most attractive thing she's seen in her entire life.

"Seaweed on the brain, much? There are Disney movies not set underwater," she teases.

"They're not as _good_ ," he argues. "Plus, all the movies set underwater encourage independence and going after your dreams. Important stuff for kids."

Annabeth rolls her eyes jokingly. "Whatever you say, Seaweed Brain."

He hands Nik off, and despite knowing she should just put him in the bassinet immediately she can't help but hold him close after being away from him all day. Maternal separation anxiety is the bane of her existence (but also a defining feature).

"Sorry about the mess in the kitchen, by the way, I meant to clean while he was napping but I clearly ended up napping too—I promise I'll go ahead and sterilize the bottles, I know that's a lot of them dirty but when I was online last night it said if you made the bottle more than thirty minutes prior you shouldn't give it to the baby and once I lost track of time so I made a new one just in case, and—what?"

"You looked up how to take care of him last night?"

Percy turns scarlet, scratching the back of his neck—what Annabeth has recently deduced to be a nervous tic. "Well, you were leaving him with me, I had to make sure I knew what I was doing, and…"

"You're a marvel, Percy Jackson."

He cocks his head at her. "How so?"

"You just…you care, so much. About everything you do."

He blushes again at the compliment, then heads to the kitchen and starts tidying up.

Minutes later, after her eyelids have drooped closed, she feels Nik being tugged from her arms, and she tightens her grip. "No!"

"Shhh, Annabeth, it's fine, I'm just gonna put him in his crib. You need your rest."

"Okay. Thank you, Percy," she mumbles without opening her eyes, her ability to sleep with him in the apartment a sure sign of exhaustion.

"Annabeth?"

"Hmm?" she squeezes her eyelids up just the tiniest bit.

"I'm gonna go now—I left the rest of the pizza so you don't have to cook whenever you wake back up, okay?"

"Okay," she mumbles.

He leans forward, and she tenses up—of _course_ , he got past her defenses, it was all a ploy so that she would owe him, her heart is racing and she braces herself because now she's halfway passed out and he can—

Percy presses his lips to her forehead, whispers goodnight, and she hears the door slide open and shut as she fades back into unconsciousness.


	4. hard knocks,hard talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of the reviews y'all have left so far--truly, they mean the world to me! Enjoy :)

"Don't you dare get any ideas," Thalia scowls at Luke playfully as he plays peekaboo with Nik.

"No worries, babe. Nik is the cutest creature on the planet, but I'm happy spending our life with just the two of us. We'll just be the best godparents there ever were." He winks, sliding an arm around her shoulder, and Annabeth has to remind herself (again) that this is her new normal, that she's not just having the same dream of her adult life she's had since she was eight—Thalia and Luke are really here.

It's funny to see them together—she'd never really considered it as a kid, and they physically seem so wholly like oppositional textbook stereotypes: Luke tall, lean, tan, blonde-haired-blue-eyed All-American boy (save for the scar that slices straight down the side of his face from the time his fourteen-year-old-self sent a younger Thalia and Annabeth ahead, devoid of muscle mass from a lack of food on top of growth spurts, when mobsters converged). Thalia, on the other hand, is punk personified, the classic image of a twenty-something whose skin is entirely covered in tattoos save her face and neck, tall and lithe with a severe look (and a strong case of resting bitch face).

She may never have considered it, but every time Annabeth sees them together she has an overwhelming sense of _right._

(And yeah, of _course_ they're Nik's godparents.)

"Food's ready!" Percy calls, and Annabeth practically drools in anticipation. While the guy did not inherit his mother's baking talents (seriously, he could find a way to massacre anything containing sugar and flour-even before putting it in the oven), his cooking is some of the best that she's ever tasted (and she's not above telling him so in order to convince him to cook more).

"You'd better not have been exaggerating, missy, or I will be thoroughly disappointed and will teach my nephew to say the word 'no' extra early," Piper threatens, taking her seat at the table beside Leo (who Annabeth has come to find out is not just _a_ friend, but Piper's _best_ friend, after Jason and Annabeth herself).

"Hey now, I will not have doubters in my kitchen. My masterpiece does _not_ need your negative energy," Percy sasses her, falling into the easy rapport the two of them developed the first time they met.

"Seaweed brain can't bake for shit, but I promise his cooking deserves the hype," Annabeth assures the brunette.

"Honestly not sure whether to be complimented or insulted."

Leo grins at him. "Take one of each, then. But hurry up already, my stomach is eating itself."

"Leo, the stomach doesn't start eating itself till more than twelve hours after your most recent meal, and we all watched you scarf down three bowls of cheerios forty minutes ago."

"Come on, Bethy, I'm starving," he whines. "Put the logic away so he'll get the food on the table faster."

"Don't call me Bethy." The demand comes out harshly, and she feels the tension that filled her body at the nickname start to seep throughout the room. "Sorry. That came out too strong—but seriously, Leo, just Annabeth. Please."

"Voila!" Percy's reappearance is perfectly timed to prevent further conversation (and if it wouldn't kill her pride to admit how badly she needs it every time, she would confront him and find out how he always knows when she needs a _deus ex machina_ twist to get her out of conversations she'd rather not have.

Everyone else digs into the heaps of cuisine on the table, with way more chairs than intended pulled up to it, but Nik starts to whimper and Annabeth picks him up to feed him before filling her plate.

"Hey, I snacked while I cooked and you haven't eaten all day, I can get him—go ahead and chow down," Percy says with a soft smile, reaching his arms out for the near-four month old. The two settle into a comfortable position (which has become a regular thing in the weeks since the first time Annabeth allowed Percy to hold him—he's babysat twice more, even gone to the park with them, eyes lighting up at the sight of the infant).

"Thank you." Annabeth lifts her fork to her mouth and groans aloud at the taste, exhausted after a long shift and a night of heavily perforated sleep due to Nik waking up a few more times than normal.

"So Piper, how's boy toy?" Leo's teasing is about as familiar to Piper as the back of her own hand, so she rolls her eyes and flicks him without pausing from chewing the bite in her mouth.

" _Jason_ has a name, and is good, thanks for asking," she replies. "I'm so glad he only has two more months of school, it's so weird to not have him around. Although I don't even want to think about the influence you're about to have on him." She scrunches her nose, and Leo cackles.

"We're going to be best friends, McLean, whether he knows it or not."

Percy snorts. "You're the reason Grover decided to move in with Juniper instead of us. I've known you since you were five and _I_ barely want to be your best friend. "

"That's just because we live together and you hold it against our friendship when I leave pizza crust in the couch cushions or break the microwave."

"Because that microwave was expensive and you're an adult and should've known not to put metal in it!" Despite his words, Percy's tone is easy, and Leo was forgiven minutes after the incident occurred. "You're lucky I love you, Valdez."

"Damn straight. How else would I get such high quality food for free? Also, Sally."

"Sally," everyone around the table except Piper echoes in confirmation, voices almost wistful. Thankfully, she'll be visiting again next week-but still, any time without her is too much time.

"Yeah, yeah, you only keep me around for my mother, I'm aware. Next time we have a family dinner you people can order a pizza."

"It's not our fault your mother is the best thing about you, Perce," Luke says, voice serious till he cracks a smirk after getting the whole sentence out. The group giggles, but Annabeth's attention is drawn to Thalia, who's been uncharacteristically quiet for the last few minutes, staring down at her plate.

Annabeth watches her, waiting for her attention to flick onto her, and when it does she draws her eyebrows together and mouths _you okay?_ Thalia twists the edges of her mouth up and nods, and while it's clear enough that something is still bothering her Annabeth knows the older woman well enough to know when she's going to be okay—which she is.

Later, once everyone is uncomfortably full and has gotten in many more playful vocal jabs across the table, they settle throughout the living room, sprawled across the couch, the floor, and a couple of mismatched bean bags (whose origin none of the apartment's residents seem to remember).

"He lives!" Thalia mock-cheers, and Annabeth turns to see Nico (who she's run into a handful of times, but only briefly and during inhumane hours, because the guy is pretty much nocturnal; exhibit a, now, wherein he's just woken up and it's seven o'clock at night on a sunday).

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm a vampire, I know. Food, Perce?"

"Blue tupperware in the fridge—don't heat it for too long."

"Roger that." Nico returns a moment later, glaring at Leo wordlessly until he reluctantly gets up from the netted, trampoline-like seat that anyone who's ever entered the apartment knows to be Nico's sacred place.

"Thals, I have tickets for Rise Against next Friday—you in?"

"Hell yes!" She leans to high-five her younger cousin, but Luke shakes his head apologetically.

"You have Zoe's engagement party that day, Thals. A little difficult for a bridesmaid to miss."

Thalia groans. "Shit, you're right. I forgot that was Friday."

Leo shakes his head. "Never thought I'd see the day someone won our RA-RA's heart, but if anyone deserves it it's Zoe. Even if I am still slightly jealous."

"Ra-ra?" Annabeth questions.

Piper rolls her eyes (again; they get plenty of exercise when she's around her joker of a friend). "Reyna's initials. Romeo here started calling her that when he became infatuated with her on sight in August, and even though they're friends now he won't call her anything else—she hates it."

Nico sighs. "Moving on. Percy?"

"I'm sorry, Neeks, you know I can't afford to take off on a Friday night," Percy grimaces apologetically, holding his hands up in helplessness.

"I'll go," Piper offers. "I'm a fan, and I work the day shift that day since I don't have class."

"You're a godsend," Nico praises, his face lighting up. "I have to work with my dad all morning that day and I can already feel how stressed I'm going to be. This'll be awesome."

"Speaking of dads," Leo pipes up unexpectedly. "Is Nik's gonna pop up any time soon? Because enough of us here have had deadbeats, if he is too we can help you file for child support from whoever he is. Or kick his ass. Or both. Whatever you prefer."

 _There it is._ Annabeth feels all of the blood rush out of her face at the question she's been waiting for, the one everyone had been oddly dancing around since Percy and his group of friends had walked into her life—the one she's been avoiding, even at the cost of making excuses every time Thalia tried to hang out one on one.

She knows Leo means well, knows he would never have said anything if he had any clue how badly this would affect her, but she can feel all the eyes in the room on her after the question they've all been too understanding, too polite (too afraid), to ask.

"He's not in the picture." _Good, that was good, Annabeth—just keep your voice that steady and this will be fine_. The sentence is clipped, but the words don't break, and she's not shaking, so she counts it as a win.

"Come on, he shouldn't get away with this. This loser is out there relaxing while you're working yourself to the bone to take care of his kid—you deserve better."

"He is not his kid." She takes a deep breath after biting out the words. "Being a father is more than just conceiving a child." _Don't think about_ it _, Annabeth. He's out of your life_. "He is not a good person, and I don't want him anywhere near my son." _Or near me_.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to pry." Leo's tone is sorrowful, and small conversations pick up around the room in an attempt to soothe the atmosphere that now has Annabeth feeling like she's suffocating. _Stop thinking about it, you're dwelling and making it worse. Think about something else-anything else._

"I think Annabeth is tired," Thalia says quietly, that gentle voice she only ever used when Annabeth or Luke was injured while they were on the run. "Let me walk you down to your apartment, kid."

Annabeth knows exactly what that means, but her heart is beating so fast at the thoughts Leo's words have unknowingly elicited that she's almost glad the woman who was basically an older sister to her is about to demand they talk about what they both know, what's been eating her alive for as long as she can remember.

"I'll walk you both to the door." It's ridiculous, really, being that the door is approximately ten feet away and she lives a floor down, but Percy is always absurdly careful (something she suspects has to do with Sally), so Annabeth doesn't argue as he follows her out the door, Nik heavy and snoozing in her arms.

"I'm—really sorry about Leo," he mumbles, cheeks flushed. "He means well, but that was out of line. I don't know what your…situation is, with everything, but you shouldn't be uncomfortable like that when you're with friends. His mouth moves faster than his brain sometimes—not that that makes it okay," he hurries to assure her, looking worried she'll assume he's excusing his friend.

"Honestly, it's fine, Percy. I'm not upset with him."

"But you are upset," he states, picking up on the words she doesn't say, looking to where Thalia stands nonchalantly by the elevator at the end of the hall rather than meeting his eyes.

"I—"

"Hey Percy, did you—" Nico swings the door open and lifts an arm as if to grab Percy's shoulder, but the motion is quick and Annabeth reflexively finds herself flinching.

And out of the corner of her eye, she sees Percy flinch too.

She pales, the knowing flooding through her, and their eyes lock in recognition.

 _Him too_ , the little voice in her brain whispers, shock and sorrow for Percy swirling through her brain as she turns away without another word, running away for fear of breaking down.


	5. ten years too late

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: hi again--I hadn't anticipated updating this quickly, but I couldn't focus on anything till I got the next chapter down, and I'm not really one to sit on a chapter once it's written. Unsure when the next will come out--but I promise as quickly as possible!
> 
> Thank you for continuing to review, y'all are the best! I hope you enjoy this chapter (we're starting to get to the real meat of the story).
> 
> *TW* this is an important chapter, but we do actually start to discuss the sexual assault in the second half (not a scene of, but experiencing the associated emotions), so I'm putting this trigger warning here just in case anyone needs the heads up.

**_*TW*_ this is an important chapter, but we do actually start to discuss the sexual assault in the second half (not a scene of, but the associated emotions, etc.), so I'm putting this trigger warning here just in case anyone needs the heads up.**

"Did it ever stop?"

They're the first words Thalia speaks, after they've been in the apartment for ten minutes. They came in, and Thalia slammed two mugs of water into the microwave, practically stabbing the tea bags into them once the water is boiling before setting one before Annabeth, taking the seat opposite her at the rickety table that came with the apartment.

"No." No pretenses or attempts to deflect, no avoiding the subject or pretending either of them doesn't know exactly what she's talking about, exactly how Nik was conceived—exactly who Nik's father is.

Quiet words, whispered by a desperate and terrified seven year old in the dead of night after making sure Luke was asleep—words she'd only let herself say once before (to Helen, thinking there might be the slightest bit of decency left in her [there wasn't], before she completely gave up on that home and decided to run away), words used to beg Thalia to never let anyone take her back. A plea.

Thalia's face had stayed blank—not devoid of emotion, but carefully controlled, because to fly into a rage wouldn't have helped the seven year old. She maintained a façade of calm, and from there on out risked everything she hadn't already (which wasn't much, but was worth the world) to keep anyone from finding the tiny girl.

"Does he know about Nik?" Anyone else might ask the question more delicately, but Thalia knows better—knows to get it out of the way.

"No. No, thank god, no—I found out a month in, and was out the next day. The only symptom that had started was morning sickness, and only for two days—everyone assumed I had a virus. I…I had a feeling, and I didn't want to risk not finding out till later and him knowing, so I took the test even though I wasn't really sure." Annabeth's voice trembles, the memory and guilt palpable.

"God, Annabeth." Thalia doesn't look her in the face for a moment, and when she does, Annabeth is jolted by the sight of tears in her friend's eyes (only the second time she's ever seen them—and when he femur snapped wasn't the other). "I wish he were dead. I wish I had killed him a decade ago."

The words are vicious, but Annabeth just doesn't have it in her to disagree.

"You know," Thalia starts, her mind working, and Annabeth already knows what she's going to propose before the words escape her. "Nik is proof. Get a DNA test, and they'll know he's lying."

"DNA will mean nothing if they think _I'm_ lying. And women…women never win these cases, and even when they do the sentences are so short, he could come after us in a year—or less. And he would know about Nik, try to take him—" the oxygen seems to flee from her body, even though she's thought through this a thousand times before, because the prospect is still just as treacherous.

"Fuck!" Thalia practically roars in anger, and Annabeth gives her a warning glance at the volume—but it's too late, Nik is awake, and she quietly walks over to press her baby— the entirety of her heart, her world— to her chest.

"Shh, honey, you're okay. Momma's here, we're okay. I love you." She mutters the phrases like a mantra, knowing Thalia sits in the other room (probably hating herself for knowingly letting Annabeth go back with Helen, as though she weren't only thirteen at the time, as though she hadn't done every possible thing she could think of to prevent it from happening).

It was pressing in on her, making it hard to stay in the now, the memories and flashbacks pressing in and threatening to overwhelm her. _"Bethy_ ," Leo had said jokingly, and the voice in her head whispers _Bethy_ , slithering into the happiness she had tried to make for herself, far from him, from Helen, from all of it, where she'd run to try to save her son (and herself).

"I'm really proud of you," Thalia says quietly, taking slow steps, knowing not to sneak up on her, even accidentally. "You escaped."

"I had to," she says; not being modest, just trying to make Thalia understand as that familiar sense of blame begins to flood her veins. "I couldn't—there was no option for Nik to be born there, for them to know about him. I—" the words almost choke her. "—I didn't know if—I couldn't take the chance—if he'd been a girl."

And she's crying, and Thalia's crying, and god _damn_ it the thought of it shouldn't still kill her like this but even _considering_ what might have happened in that house had she brought a baby girl into the world destroys her.

"But you made it," Thalia reminds her, voice strong despite the emotion laced throughout it. "You made it, and Nik is here, and okay, because of it."

And he is.

Nik is here, and safe, and that is all that she could ask for (even as the guilt crashes over her, strangling her heart every second).

/

A soft knock comes at the door, and Annabeth's stomach twists at the thought of talking to someone else, trying to brush off the thing inside of her that's screaming at the top of its lungs, and has been for a long time.

She straightens up, beginning to stand and brace herself to deal with whoever is on the other side of the slab of wood that somehow seems to keep her so much safer from the world around her. Before she can move, though, a head pops in with a sad smile, and in walks the only other person on this planet whose presence won't sent her into a downward spiral in this moment.

"Hey, squirt." Luke's voice is gentle, the way it always is with her (whether she's seven and brandishing a knife, or eight and sobbing while clutching at the front of his shirt, or eighteen and reminding him in a worried voice to keep an arm under Nik's neck _so help me god, Luke_ ).

The way Luke is with her, she'll never understand how the things that happened in his decade long absence from her life did—because she could never imagine someone this careful, this delicate, this caring getting involved with a gang of the very monsters they'd once run from. Getting involved with drugs, with selling them, involved with going after those who'd incurred a debt and needed to be punished, not realizing until years into his involvement (once it was far too late) that he'd become the definition of evil—that bad which thinks itself good.

When someone resembling Thalia had cowered from him, he'd snapped—grabbed her, snatched another member's bike, and hauled ass to the nearest police station, begging them to help her and take him in, confessing a hundred crimes, rarely pausing for breath. He'd beseeched them for repercussions, offered up every detail he'd ever known, but sworn off any kind of plea deal—and on receiving his sentence (no plea deal, but far more generous than it might have been), received a knife between the ribs his first day in prison—several times, before the guards caught a glimpse of him collapsed to the floor, conscious but not bothering to press a hand to staunch the flow of blood—believing himself to be receiving his penance.

Upon waking again, the first thing he saw was the real Thalia—enraged, puffy eyed, and beautiful. She tore into him without bothering to ask how he was feeling, after months and months of imploring him to stop whatever he was doing, to leave the dodgy people she'd seen him crossing paths with, to stop wasting the freedom they'd always wished for on becoming his worst fear.

He hadn't listened, then.

He'd only pushed her away, told her he knew what he was doing, fought with her for acting like he was an idiot (" _well you're damn well acting like one, Castellan."_ She hadn't called him Castellan since she was twelve and they'd first met on the streets, when she wouldn't sleep because she didn't trust him, demanded to prepare all food they got ahold of for fear that he would leave her to starve).

And on she screamed at him—calling him out on his bullshit as she always had done, reminding him of the person he'd always wanted to be (" _You can_ always _change. You can still be that guy."_ ).

( _"You're right. Thals—I fucked up. I'm sorry."_ No excuses. Confession, honesty, fessing up without cushioning the truth, as had always been their way.)

(They didn't speak any more that night.)

The next day, they'd told her why he'd been attacked ( _"Snitches get snitches"_ left carved into a rose stem (a dead rose, that is) left on his night stand—despite her not having left since he'd been admitted.)

Slowly but surely, he'd grown into something new—not quite the hopeful child he'd been, not the man angry at the world, but something in the middle, somewhere in the grey (By the time he finished his prison sentence, out early for good behavior with thousands of hours of community service, he wanted nothing more than to go back in time, to talk to his younger self, to make him see that someone cared, make him understand all of the things he was giving up.)

To go back before it was too late and help himself, or to have someone else do so, was impossible (so instead, he started trying to do it for someone else).

On parole, he moved in with Thalia until he could get back on his feet (she was still livid with him, but knew he was moving forward, so she didn't begrudge him a spot on her uncomfortable futon till he could get together the means and approval to get a place of his own). And he snagged two jobs—minimum wage, the only kind that would take him with a criminal record—but he kept finding himself drawn to the youth center in the shitty part of town, where he talked to kids so full of anger and resentment and frustration with being unloved and unwanted (kids who initially hated his guts, but slowly started to understand he wasn't going anywhere—that he was giving it to them straight, unlike anyone in their lives thus far had bothered to do).

When the kids refused to listen to anyone else, started to call him in the dead of night (for a ride from somewhere something bad was about to go down, for a place to stay the night when a parent was too fucked up for being home to go well in any meaning of the word, for someone to promise to watch their back while they slept because the monsters haunting their dreams weren't just nightmares) the center offered him a permanent position—the pay was shit, but the kids were practically the only thing a now-22 year old Luke cared about, so why would he have refused.

(By the time he got together the money to start renting a place of his own, he wasn't sleeping on the futon anymore, and it was decided he was already home.)

Knowing this, Annabeth is pretty sure the careful honesty on his face is a practiced look, the one he probably uses at work—when he gets a call at two a.m. and knows something terrible has happened, and there aren't really words to make things right, there's not a way for him to get them through it: only they can do that part, and he can just be there to stand beside them when they break down along the way.

His eyes are concentrated on her, and the coward inside of her is thrilled when Nik starts to cry and she starts to stand—an out, thank god—but Thalia holds a palm up to her unapologetically, reaching to pick up the baby (with what seems to Annabeth to be an oddly practiced grip, an odd ease with which she settles him into the crook of her arm pressed against her chest for someone who's never had a child, or worked with kids, but she doesn't have the wherewithal to focus on that at the moment).

 _So, this conversation is happening_ , her internal monologue mutters, resigning itself.

"It seems pretty clear to me that whoever Nik's father is, he was doing this to you for a long time," Luke says without preamble, and Annabeth's head snaps up to him angrily.

"Did Thalia—" even as she begins the question, she knows it's not a possibility, and Luke scowls at her for beginning to voice the thought.

"You and I both know she would never betray your trust like that, so cut the shit. I know because I see the same behaviors in you that I see in the kids I work with dealing with similar situations. If I were smarter-" he stops, swallows thickly, and her eyebrows scrunch together. "If I were smarter, I would've figured it out a decade ago and been filing for custody of you on my eighteenth birthday instead of drawing on the inside of my cell."

Luke knowing (a man knowing, really) is enough to shoot her anxiety through the roof, and she sits hunched, arms wrapped around her legs tightly enough that her knuckles are white.

"There was no reason for you to have known," she replies without emotion in her voice.

"It doesn't matter, anyway. We can't change it-we're here now. And I'm sorry you had to go through that—and don't say it's fine, because it's not."

She nods, eyes watering, because he _gets_ it. Thalia would rage for her, would fight the sun itself if it harmed her (and she needs that, because even though she doesn't want anyone to fight him, it's nice to know someone cares enough to _want_ to, that someone is so angry that they'd seek vengeance on her behalf were they able); but Luke, Luke would let her cry it out, would get her to talk about it when she doesn't want to, would save her from herself (and she needs that too).

"I—I've been dealing with it this long, I'll get through it," she insists despite herself, the words hollow (as though she doesn't dwell on it constantly, as though flashbacks don't slam through her regularly, interrupting any heartbeat of happiness, as though she's ever been able to do anything but drown inside of the crime scene that is her own body).

"No one just 'gets through' rape." His voice is gentle, but she flinches violently at the word ( _why would he **say** it, WHY, why would he say that word that makes her insides recoil and want to sprint in the opposite direction, that fucking word that haunts her), _and she wants to scream because she hates that word, she hates it so much and she hates him for saying it because if she can just not think the word she can make an attempt at not thinking about everything and he's looking into her eyes as she glares at him without reprehension. "It's an ugly word, I know, and I can imagine it's hard to hear—but not saying it is a disservice to you, it's downplaying the violence that's been done to you, and I won't do that. I won't let whoever this monster is get away with you being afraid to acknowledge the reality of what you've been through."

Why should she? The first time she ever bothered to, back when she thought there was a chance telling someone would make it end, she'd feared Helen might not believe her.

But it had been worse than that. Helen had believed her—she just didn't _care_.

And therein lay the reality of why she'd never gone forward to the police, and why she never would. She couldn't bear her soul again for them to wave him away, slap on a three month sentence (if anything) and expect her to move forward, business as usual.

"I don't—I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Luke starts to reach out, then pulls back, as if seeing in her eyes that while his touch hasn't set her off before, in this moment the feel of skin against hers would trigger something incredibly painful in her brain-she keeps telling herself it's Luke (just Luke, the guy she'd practically worshipped for a decade), but even his proximity has her breathing shallow and her eyes dilated. For a moment, the only sound in the apartment is Thalia, mumbling a lullaby in her gravelly voice. "We don't have to. It's completely your choice—you're in charge here." And he drops it, just like that, hard conversation over.

The way he says the words, she knows it's something he's said before—but they're exactly the right ones.

Annabeth has been called a control freak a million different times by a million different people—and she is.

Because when you have no power over what has happened to you, there's nothing you want more than to control everything you possibly can.


	6. life passes you by

Nik gurgles, and Annabeth can't help but giggle at the delighted look on his face.

Realistically, he's probably happy because he just ate, he's getting lots of cuddles and attention from his mama, and there are at least five bright lights in his vision.

But that doesn't mean Annabeth won't try to tell herself he's in such a good mood because he's

in the library. (There are few things she hopes for more than her son to inherit her love of books, because god, without it she wouldn't have made it this far. It's the greatest strength she could possibly pass on to him).

"He's throwing up slugs, Nik, how icky!" While she doesn't use a baby voice with her son, she definitely tries to tone down her vocabulary for the tiny infant.

"Starting him early, I see," Percy's familiar voice says from nearby, and Annabeth smiles as she looks up to see him leaning against the wall by the couch she and Nik sit on.

"Are you talking about the library, or the reading?"

"Neither—the _Harry Potter_ ," he teases. "Don't tell me you two already managed to get through all of _Sorcerer's Stone_."

"We did more than half of it while I was home with him for the first few weeks, to be fair." Annabeth was already in a great mood, as being in the library curled up with her baby and a book is pretty much her favorite thing in this world, but the sight of her friend has her spirits rising even higher. "What are you here for?"

The ever-present grin on Percy's face flips to a half-hearted grimace. "Studying. I'm doing the required math I should've done approximately three semesters ago, and it's killing me slowly. If I didn't need it to graduate, I would've dropped it a month ago."

"Yikes. The swim team hasn't offered to spring for a tutor or something? I thought they would give anything to keep their athletes at a 2.0."

"They did—er, they tried, anyway—but I have ADHD and I'm dyslexic, so all of the tutors at NYU we've tried haven't really known what to do with me." The admission heats his cheeks, and Annabeth feels her heart pause, and then leap. _She shouldn't. Should she?_

"Actually," she starts, though she hadn't decided to offer before her mouth decided to act of its own accord. "I'm ADHD and dyslexic, too. I know all the tricks, so I could help you a few times a week—if you're okay with Nik being there."

His eyes widen, face brightening (which is good, because the dose of desolation that was showing reminded Annabeth too strongly of the way he'd looked last week, after Nico and the flinch and the moment that they still haven't talked about)

(she doesn't think she's the only one who's purposely avoiding _that_ reckoning)

"That would be amazing! Are you sure? I know you're super busy and math is no fun and—"

"Percy," she cuts him off gently. "I wouldn't offer if I couldn't make good on it. And besides, I'm an architect to be—math is pretty much my life. I can always use the review; you learn best by teaching."

She's trying a little hard to convince him, but she's resigned herself to how hopelessly enamored with the guy she's becoming, so she's not going to bother playing it cool. It's Percy.

"Okay," he relents. "I really appreciate it—midterms are soon and I don't understand anything. I was just about to head out, actually; would you and Nik want to get lunch?" The question is directed to her, but before he's finished getting the words out of his mouth he's scooping Nik away from her, spinning with the baby, who babbles a little louder at his familiar face.

"We could love that. I've been putting off grocery shopping longer than any sane person and didn't have anything to throw together as breakfast this morning, so I'm starving."

"You good with pizza?"

Annabeth rolls her eyes. "Like I expect to eat anything else when I'm out and about with you."

/

\

/

"You owe me five hundred, pay the hell up!"

"I do not! You're a liar and a cheat!"

"Didn't I tell you two no more Monopoly last week?" Percy and Piper both forget their argument instantly and turn to her with guilty eyes (eyes that are begging her to let them continue even though it wouldn't be the first time that it ended in something broken).

"I'm so close to beating him, Annabeth, if you just give us five more minutes—"

"She's lying to you! But I agree about the five more minutes, please."

"Five more minutes my ass," she mutters with an eye roll. "Percy, you promised me dinner, so hop to it. We still have another chapter to review tonight."

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am," he salutes jokingly, but stretches to his feet and heads to the kitchenette to get cracking.

When they first started the tutoring arrangement, they very nearly had a shouting match when the topic of payment came up.

(Percy wanted to pay her, even though he really didn't have the extra cash)

(Annabeth refused to take the money for helping a friend out when it wasn't even an inconvenience) (In fact, spending time with Percy even pouring over a textbook was her second favorite way to spend her free time, after cuddling with Nik)

Eventually, Piper calmed them both down and convinced them both it was a fair trade to consider the tutoring a favor, and for Percy to pay Annabeth back in favors.

(Hence the cooking.)

More often than not, Percy begged to babysit his debt away, making up excuses for Annabeth to nap or run errands so he could have Nik (even once his 'owed' favor time was up), but with how much more time he'd been spending over (as the two slowly gravitated closer and closer, not talking about their growing attachment but not doing anything to stop it when they ended up on the couch during a long conversation and Percy's arm drifted over her shoulder, her hand occasionally entwining itself with his), Annabeth had started taking advantage of his culinary capability (because on her own, she subsisted on a ridiculous amount of pasta, mac and cheese, and ramen—in other words, noodles were her only hope in the kitchen).

"What are you feeding us tonight, Chef Boyardee?" Piper asked as she started packing the game pieces in the box.

"It's Jamie Oliver, thank you, respect the chef or no food for you."

Piper stuck her tongue out in response, screeching a second later when he turned the kitchen sink hose her way and splashed water her way.

"Perseus Jackson if you don't grab a towel _right now_ and clean up that mess I will help Leo cover your bedroom floor with mouse traps while you sleep."

Percy's eyes widen at the threat. "Damn, Wise Girl, I didn't know you could be so violent."

"I'm Wise Girl now, am I?" she asks, stepping around him to put the milk she'd pumped in the freezer.

(Since Percy had started taking it upon himself to occasionally kidnap Nik whenever he had time, Annabeth had been getting quite a few extra hours of sleep here and there, but the exhaustion still lining her face made Percy and Piper lock sad eyes.)

"Sure are—I saw your admission letters. You've been holding out on us, you genius. Harvard, Annabeth? And Stanford? And you're _here_?" The confusion and frustration lacing his voice were palpable, and Annabeth couldn't meet his eyes.

(Percy wanted to scream, because while NYU was by no means a bad school, a top ten institution meant all kinds of open doors for this girl working herself to the bone who deserved so much more)

(he wouldn't have met her had she gone, but his anguish fired up at knowing being somewhere else could've given her and Nik an easier life)

"It's complicated." Her standard answer (one Percy had learned to associate with whatever things scared her enough to have him waking her from nightmares when she fell asleep unexpectedly while he cooked, or played with Nik, only to hear her breathing quicken as she began to sob in her sleep). "NYU was the better option once Nik was in the picture."

(Helen didn't know she'd applied to NYU.)

(Neither did he.)

Her discomfort with the topic was clear, so Percy let it go and offered her a smile. "Whatever the reason, I'm glad you ended up here, smarty pants. You _and_ my three and a half month old best friend."

"Me too!" Piper chirped, before Percy dropped the (now soaked from wiping up the puddle) dishtowel on her head and she growled. "I'll get you back for that, Jackson!"

"No you won't—I'm holding a baby, I have immunity." Percy's tone was cocky from where he again approached the tiny stove top, Nik tucked into one arm and a spatula on the end of the other.

(a position he'd found himself in rather frequently as of late—and one he liked. A lot.)

\

/

\

_"And you've been eating enough, right, honey?"_

"Yes, Mom, don't worry—and before you ask, yes, I've been making sure Nico does, too. I think he's been doing a little bit better lately. We went to her grave last week, with Thalia, and Will, and he seemed more…I don't know, peaceful?" Percy felt a little awkward, not sure how to put words to the cousin that had barred himself off from the world several years before (who they'd been slowly working to bring back to life).

(but then, _his_ life being lost had never been the root of the issue, had it?)

_"Good. You tell that boy I love him. Now, where are you and Annabeth going for your date tomorrow?"_

"I already told you, it's not a date!" he says, exasperated, for approximately the tenth time.

_"You're going on a picnic."_

"Well, yeah, but—"

_"Just the two of you and the baby."_

"Yes, Mother, but—"

_"You made sure you had off work and have been asking me what foods you should pack for a week."_

If Sally had been able to see him, there would be no way to deny it, as his entire face (and neck) was fire engine red. "Mom, it's not a date, I just thought it would be a fun day for Nik, and something to get her outside and relaxed on her day off. She's….she's my best friend."

( _And her eyes are pretty and she never makes me feel stupid even though she's got the brain of a goddess and I'm on the verge of falling in love with her but-)_

 _"Percy, honey, I think we can both tell that sweet young woman has been through a lot."_ (Percy had never mentioned what he'd mentally dubbed _the incident_ , wherein he'd realized he and Annabeth had a lot more in common than he'd thought, but his mother understood people, always had, and knew something was up all on her own.) _"And I know that because of that you're probably trying not to scare her off or overwhelm her, but it seems to me she likes you too. And love…love doesn't always come when it might be convenient, but it's always worth chasing."_

He wanted to object, insist she was seeing things (because the chances of Annabeth liking him? Like that? Of her being ready for a relationship right now, on top of being a single mother and working and taking classes and dealing with her past?), but since she and the genius in question had hour long phone calls every few days, he figured she would fight most any argument he came up with.

"I—I'll ask her. Soon," he promises. "And yes, I promise to give you all of the details and take at least one picture."

 _"That's my boy."_ He could hear the love in her voice, sense the smile on her face from through the phone (probably tucked into the worn and beloved throw blanket on the couch with the notebook she was scribbling into a novel that she'd crack as soon as they hung up). _"I'm proud of you, sweetie. You're the kind of man I always hoped I would raise you to be."_

"Thanks, Mom," he tells her, voice cracking even though he's never doubted it—Sally has never failed to make it clear that she's proud of him (not when he was expelled from a school a year for almost a decade, not when he picked a fight with Gabe, knowing how it would end, not when he gave money she'd really needed to put towards bills to an old man on the street without thinking—never). "I gotta go take a shower and get to bed, but I'll talk to you soon. I love you."

_"I love you too, honey. Good night."_

He hung up the phone, rubbing his tired eyes before heading to the bathroom, his mom and Annabeth both swirling through his mind.

_Soon._


	7. old wounds

Annabeth glances down at her phone under the guise of checking the time from her seat across the room from Piper (intentionally).

(After all of the work she and Jason have done together to make this surprise happen, it wouldn't do for Piper to figure it out a minute early because she caught a glimpse of Jason's name on Annabeth's screen.)

They're upstairs for their fairly-regular movie night in the boys' triple, Piper on the dilapidated couch squished between Percy (who knows Jason is coming, because Annabeth would've felt way too guilty bringing a random guy to his apartment without permission) and Leo (who doesn't, because his mouth is the biggest thing on the east coast). Luke is sprawled on the armchair with Nik in his lap, eyes excited as he relays stories (of the baby's mother in her, perhaps, wilder, younger days, not limited to the time she swung on a three hundred pound man with her tiny rusty knife because he took a step towards Thalia), and since midterms are finally over for all the students, Thalia works her magic to make a few more drinks in the kitchen (they never let Percy be bartender when it's his night off).

It's already a good night, but Annabeth's excitement for Piper's reaction is too hyped up to enjoy the familiar happy atmosphere this group that's become her family provides.

**_Headed up_ ** **.**

The text hits Annabeth's phone with a ding, and she quickly hops to her feet, making eye contact with Percy before busying her hands with the tray of wings on the tiny living room coffee table (which Piper would find suspicious normally, because Annabeth prefers spicy to honey barbecue, but she's currently occupied with the movie so she doesn't bat an eye).

Mere seconds later, a knock sounds on the door, and Annabeth looks up apologetically (Percy has to hold back a laugh at the deviousness in her eyes). "I have sauce all over my hands—could you get it, Piper?"

"I don't even live here—your go, Valdez," she tells Leo, gesturing to the door with a flourish.

"TV owner privileges—Leo and I are exempt," Percy zings without pause, passing it off completely naturally. "Sorry, McLean."

"Yeah, sorry Beauty Queen." The tongue Leo sticks out does nothing to convince her, but whoever is at the door has been waiting for a hot minute, and Annabeth gives her _the look_ (the same look she gives her when she 'happens' to disappear right when the table of bitchy middle aged regulars comes in at work and Annabeth gets stuck with it), and Piper sighs, pulling herself to her feet and trudging to the door.

Before she has it open, she starts speaking, "Hey, if you're looking for Percy or Leo they're busy being lazy ass—"

Annabeth sees the exact second Piper looks up to see her best friend (who isn't supposed to be there for another month), the brunette pausing dramatically before launching herself towards him.

"Oh my god, you _didn't_! How did you do this? I can't believe you didn't tell me you were coming!"

"Suffocating here, Pipes," he (somewhat) jokes, and she pulls away to drag him forward. "I realized I had no desire to walk across a stage when I could be with my best friend sooner, and all of my courses are done, so I'm in the clear. You're the proud BFF of a high school graduate."

"Who says I'm proud?" Her face is so flushed with joy that the tease has no weight, and she spins to narrow her eyes at Annabeth with a suppressed grin. "You had something to do with this, didn't you? I _knew_ you'd been acting weird all week!"

"Guilty as charged. Jason called me a few weeks ago to start figuring out the details."

"I can't believe you two did this! Don't think you're in the clear for hiding this from me, Sparky," she threatens.

"Please tell me the nickname has something to do with a sparkler accident," Leo begs, and Jason smiles at him.

"That's Leo," Piper says by way of explanation, and Jason nods, understanding lighting in his eyes (because he's heard hours' worth of stories about the kid from Piper over the last few months).

"Hi, Leo. No sparkler, unfortunately—just a static electricity incident that led to a really embarrassing hairdo."

"I have pictures," Piper informs everyone, delighted face full of mischief.

"What do I have to do to get you to delete them?"

(Annabeth is pretty sure the answer running through Piper's brain is something along the lines of the long awaited marriage, but Piper laughs it off and swears she'll keep the pictures until she's dead, and Annabeth leaves them to it and heads to the kitchen to sneak some of the ice cream Leo doesn't know about yet.)

"What's all the commotion?" Thalia asks from where she stands at the counter, two glasses in one hand and a handle of tequila in the other, working on the margaritas she promised Percy and Leo if they both studied for all of their exams the week before.

"Piper's best friend from California is here—she didn't know he was coming."

"Ah," Thalia grins, "that explains the squealing."

"Pretty much. You want a bowl?" Annabeth waves toward the carton of triple chocolate brownie in front of her, and Thalia nods vehemently.

"But not in a bowl, you heathen. Real adults eat their ice cream in cones."

"Says who?"

"Says me, and I've been adulating seven years longer than you."

"I have a kid, I think that gives me extra adultiness," she argues with a smile, turning to the cabinet for the cones.

Piper's voice floats into the kitchen with two sets of footsteps, and Annabeth isn't really paying attention until the sound of glass shattering echoes through the kitchen.

Turning, she sees a ghostly pale Thalia, fist clutching air where the now-broken glass was a second prior. Thalia isn't moving (in fact, Annabeth is pretty sure she isn't breathing), just staring at Jason, who stands at a confused Piper's side with wide eyes.

"I haven't had this dream in a long time," Thalia says quietly, to herself, but Annabeth steps over to grasp her wrist.

"You're not dreaming, Thals—what's going on?"

"No, I must be." The mumble is quiet, heartbroken, and Thalia—strong Thalia, who Annabeth has _never_ seen cry for herself—Thalia chokes out a sob.

"Jason? What's wrong?" Piper asks worriedly, and Thalia just barely flinches from across the kitchen, growing even more unhinged.

"I-I—Piper, it's _her_." His voice is much more hoarse than it was when Annabeth heard it only minutes ago. For a moment, Piper continues to appear befuddled, but recognition shoots through her and her back straightens.

"Oh my god. Oh my god. I knew you looked familiar, but—oh my god." She can't get coherent words through her mouth, reaching to grab Jason's arm. "Where-where's the wallet, Jase?"

He doesn't respond, still locked in the freaky stare with Thalia, and Piper sighs and reaches into his pockets until she hits the jackpot, pulling it out with a shaky hand. Pulling it open, she flips to where she knows him to keep the photo (heart thumping when she sees that the only one beside it is of the two of them on their one and only trip to Disneyland), and pulls out the wrinkled and faded image.

Annabeth, now at Thalia's side, reaches to grasp it when Piper hands it over, but Thalia doesn't make a move to see it. "She said you were dead," she whispers, the words barely audible, and the tension in Annabeth grows tighter until she gasps at the sight of the photo: a much, much younger Thalia (untatted, hair not sheared or dyed, a huge laugh stretched across her face), more joyous than Annabeth has ever seen her, with a toddler in her arms, mouth open wide, who wouldn't be recognizable if not for the swath of bright golden blonde hair and a healing cut above his lip (where a pale scar now decorates grown-up Jason's face).

"I don't know who you are," Jason admits quietly. "But I feel like I almost remember you and—that picture is the only thing I had when they found me. I-if you don't remember me, that's okay too, I'm-"

"I know who you are," Thalia says, pressing a hand to her mouth in shock? Grief? "I'm the one who named you, for god's sake."

Luke enters the kitchen at this moment, trepidation and worry filling his face at the sight of his girlfriend more distraught than he's ever seen her. Before he can open his mouth (him or any of the other three incredulous people in the room), however, Thalia says three words (the three words that click in Jason's head, words he's been thinking and hoping and wanting to understand since he was discovered in his abductor's home with no memory, nothing but the raggedy clothes and scars on his body and the folded picture hidden underneath).

"I'm your sister."

\

/

\

No one speaks again until they're seated around the table, Percy and Leo entertaining Nik in the living room.

"Why did you think I was dead?" Jason doesn't skip around the question, hands clutching the edge of the table as Piper squeezes his shoulder (in comfort, in solidarity, to remind him that he's not alone, that he's never been alone).

"She—our mother," she explains, and Luke scowls beside her at the mention of the woman whose atrocities he's had to drag out of Thalia, slowly and delicately, over the years. "She wasn't, um, a very good person, Jason. She was an alcoholic, and she never wanted kids, and he was a washed-up actress and claimed having kids was the reason directors stopped casting her." Her voice is so apologetic (because if there were a way, _any_ way, she could've ever done anything to give her brother better in a mother, she would've), but Jason doesn't let the words upset him (he never expected family at all, so to hear about a shitty mother isn't going to affect him when the shock of an older sister is setting in).

"You and I, though—we were as close as can be." A glimpse of a smile sneaks through her jolted expression (a nostalgic expression that Annabeth can finally place as the one on her face when she takes care of Nik; the reason for her expertise at caring for her godson sliding into place). "I'm seven years older than you, by the way. It-it doesn't sound like a lot, but since she was….her, and dad bolted as soon as I was conceived and only came back long enough to put you in the picture…well, we grew up fast, kiddo.

"I never left you alone with her," she promises, looking terrified that he'll think she abandoned him. "And we made it work. You were such a lively baby, so much personality, so happy—except when you tried to eat a stapler." A fond chuckle escapes her at the memory. "The day that picture was taken. Someone had a polaroid, and mom was so…distracted," (she says distracted, but she means hopped up on the coke she squandered all of her money on—tiny packets everywhere in their house, a tiny packet that Jason had unknowingly tried to put in his mouth before the stapler that made her glad for the less grievous nature of the injury he _actually_ sustained that day). "She didn't take away the picture, didn't even notice it. I don't even remember putting it with you the day she took you away." Her tone turns mournful.

"It was always such a fight to get any money from her to go grocery shopping, and she tempted me, I'd just given you the last thing we had to feed you, and she told me if I didn't go to the store _right then_ she would take the cash back and we would both starve. You were asleep, and she was-thinking clearly that day, and I was only gone for twenty minutes."

(Twenty minutes, desperate for food for the tiny boy who was her life, desperate for food for herself when she hadn't eaten in days.)

(Only to come home to an empty house that would never be any semblance of home again.)

(Twenty minutes that would haunt her every day thereafter.)

"I looked everywhere—I ran around like a crazy person, pounded on the neighbors' doors, anything I could possibly do. But then she came home and said…" Thalia steels herself, shaken at recounting the worst day of her life. "Said it was too late, that you were dead, and I needed to learn to just move on."

(The words taste like poison coming out of her mouth, and she doesn't mention the peaceful look on their mother's face as she relayed this information, her faraway eyes and drop of blood from her nose telling exactly what she'd traded her son for.)

"I don't know where I went," Jason confesses honestly. "I—my first memory is from when I was twelve, waking up in a hospital where they questioned me but all I could remember was my first name."

(While there was much he didn't remember, from the marks permanently marring his skin he had a pretty good idea.)

"Our last name is Grace," Thalia says quietly, acknowledging the name she'd always despised for his sake.

It clicks in Piper's brain, but she has the sense not to shout out ' _Beryl'_ when she realizes the actress her father had mentioned once was her best friend's mother.

(He'd mentioned her as a warning, when Piper had been accused of stealing for the fifth time and he assumed she was trying to support a drug habit.)

(Beryl was not a very good person.)

"Jason Grace," she whispers instead, giving him a small smile. "Sounds a lot better than Jason Smith."

"It does," he agrees quietly. "I'll have to go get it changed on my documents— _that_ 'll be an ordeal."

"I have your social security card. At my place. Could help. I mean, it won't be easy still, because she refused to report you-" Thala finds herself unable to continue, drowning in the memories of a storm of grief.

(Of a baby gone without a trace, of officers refusing to believe a distraught nine year old over her reputable mother, of refusing to stick around in the home of the monster who allowed someone to hurt him.)

"You kept it?" After living in foster care for the last six years and being nothing but a number, to have this person who cares so much, who's remembered him despite not seeing him for a decade and a half—it's a lot to take in.

"Of course. Yours, mine, your teddy bear—only things I took when I ran." She's not meeting his eyes now, emotion threatening to overwhelm her.

Luke has seen the stuffed animal a million times, of course, and always just assumed it was hers, as she'd clutched it tightly any time danger came near since they crashed into each other at thirteen.

(But knowing she ran away at nine, knowing now that she was seven years older than Jason, and knowing Jason was two when he disappeared, every interaction involving the bear holds new meaning—every explanation of why she ran away, what finally pushed her over the edge as a child who'd dealt with the woman for so many years, only to snap so suddenly.)

"Oh!" Annabeth exclaims, pressing a hand to her chest. " _Jason._ Of course." Everyone gives her a weird look, and she turns to Thalia, fidgeting distractedly. "Your tattoo. I always wondered why that was the one you wanted to get."

Luke's eyes alight with understanding as well (that tattoo being the only of the many to adorn her body for which she would give him no explanation), and Thalia hesitantly moves to lift her shirt from her side, revealing her ribs—and there, in excruciating detail across her ribs was the image of a masterful ship, _Argo_ etched along its prow.

"To keep you with me even though you were gone," she mumbles, and finally mobile despite the whirlwind of emotion inside him, Jason stands and moves to her, pulling her into a tight embrace.

(And while he's taller, broader, and the one to initiate the hug, within moments she's the one holding him up, holding him together as his entire life is reconfigured- and he finds himself with family.)

(At last.)


	8. one step forward,two steps back

“You’re not going to convince me that Spider-Man is a better superhero than the Flash.”

 

“And here I thought you were a purveyor of truth!”  
  


“Stop throwing my own phrases back at me, Percy, the truth is that Barry Allen is unequivocally the superior hero. He could overcome _literally_ any other power with his speed, because by channeling and manipulating it he can exert limitless force, become impervious to time—he’s unstoppable.”

 

Percy rolls his eyes as he stands, straightening the fabric of his work shirt with the hand not holding Nik as he braces himself to ask her—too soon, and she notices something is off.

 

“Seaweed Brain, since when do you leave early for work?” The words are joking, but she’s actually kind of nervous because it’s so out of character for him.

 

“I’m not leaving, yet; I wanted to talk to you about something, actually.” Clearing his throat, he makes himself meet her eyes, watching him with confusion. “I—er—” _you can’t chicken out, Jackson, Mom will toss you into the Long Island Sound._ “I was wondering if you would want to go out on Saturday. Like a date,” he clarifies, mentally face-palming because _Annabeth is the smartest person you’ve ever known, I’m pretty sure she knew you meant like a date, dummy_.

 

“Oh.” The sound is brief and surprised, no other trace of emotion in her voice.

 

(They’ve known there was something between them for a while, of course, but somehow his acknowledging it so directly is like a defibrillator straight to the chest. _Words? Sounds? Breathing? Something, Annabeth, get it together._ )

 

“If you don’t want to that’s totally okay, I just, um, I thought you might, but no pressure, I’ll just leave now and—”

 

“Percy,” she cuts him off, the corners of her lips turning upward. “Of course I want to. Sorry I froze for a second there, I just,” _wasn’t expecting the closest thing to an angel I’ve ever known to have feelings for me too?_ “I was surprised. I’d love that. I’ll have to see if Piper has off to babysit.”

 

“No!” he says immediately, then blushes at the way his voice shot up an octave. “Sorry. I just mean that I’d like Nik to come, too.”

 

“Really?”

 

(Because of course she wants Nik with her, and it’s no secret that Percy adores Nik, but to actively want to bring him on their first date? Didn’t see that one coming.)

 

“Yeah. I mean, he’s your kid, dating you means dating him, right? He’s the number one permanent member of whatever family you go on to build. I would never want to try to have a relationship with you around him.”

 

The larger part of Percy is ecstatic she said yes, ecstatic to bring her and Nik where he’s been planning to, to finally bridge the charged gap that’s existed between him and Annabeth these last few months as they’ve grown closer and put off acknowledging how badly they both want to be together.

 

(The smaller part looks at tiny Nik against his chest, sleepy and happy and unworried, and remembers another little boy whose mother decided to start dating, a man who always demanded a babysitter, who pulled the mother farther and farther from the boy before it was too late, who had them both trapped.)

 

(He couldn’t save Sally then, but he could make sure Nik was kept involved in his relationship with Annabeth now, always knew love now.)

 

“Do I get to know what we’re doing?”

 

 “Wellll I thought that since you figure everything out with that big brain of yours, Wise Girl, it might be good for you to be surprised for a change.”

 

“Fair enough,” she accepts the jest, and has to restrain herself from leaning forward to kiss him already. She reaches out to take Nik so he can head to work, internally mourning at losing the sight of Percy holding her baby boy (a sight that has started to take over what few dreams interweave with her nightmares).

 

(she’s ruminating over the way she’s starting to fall in love with him, wishing Nik could have someone as caring and devoted as Percy to love him as much as she does; Percy’s berating himself and wondering if he could ever deserve something as precious as a child, terrified that he, too, might become their own personal monster.)

 

/

\

/

 

“How long before we got here did you guess where we were going?” Percy asks with a smile, having expected as much and held back laughs at her feigned surprise when they approached the aquarium.

 

“Two hours after you left on Tuesday,” she admits sheepishly, her heart jolting as he slides his fingers through hers, her other arm tight around a practically giddy Nik.

 

“As long as I could hope it would take, really,” he nods, leading her by the hand to the ticket window. “My thinking is, we take as much advantage of Nik getting into places free as we can while it lasts.”

 

“You know I’m on board with anything free.” Percy chuckles at her smirk, and Annabeth tries not to think about the easy way he mentioned the future, as though it wasn’t a question for him that Nik would be in his life well past the age of free admission (which was what, three at the earliest?).

 

“Okay so we definitely have to start in the saltwater section, they’re the coolest, and the sharks are there,” he declares, pushing the empty stroller forward without hesitation.

 

“I always pictured you as more of a dolphin guy.”

 

Percy shudders, stepping closer to the glowing tank before them in the darkened room. “Dolphins are assholes. Sharks get a bad reputation because they have the potential to hurt humans, but they almost never do. They're like…underwater puppies. With extra teeth.”

 

“Whatever you say, Mr. Expert. What do you want to do with that marine biology degree of yours, anyhow?”

 

He blushes, like it’s a question he doesn’t get often, and she can see him visibly trying to compose his response even as he watches Nik, the infant enraptured by the many colors and lights within the tanks. “I’d be happy doing anything in the field, really. My long-shot goal would be to work at some kind of rehabilitation center, maybe something where I got to do field work sometimes, but…I don’t know. Wherever the cards fall, and all.” Wherever he can make a real difference for the amazing creatures he so loves.

 

(Wherever he can make enough money to dig his mother out of her financial grave more than a pebble at a time.)

 

“Well, anywhere would be lucky to have you. Maybe you’ll end up down in Florida, somewhere like Clearwater where they work with prosthetics for injured animals,” Annabeth suggests, eyes alight just _thinking_ about all the potential Percy has, the impact he could have in the world around him.

 

“Maybe. And we can—” he cuts himself off abruptly as his ears turn red at the realization that maybe it’s a little direct to talk about them bringing Nik to Harry Potter world in a hypothetical future where the three of them move to Florida. Together.

 

(In all fairness, the thought preemptively crossed Annabeth’s mind too.)

 

The rest of their wandering throughout the aquarium follows in a similar fashion, easy conversation between them, Percy’s happiness flaring every time Nik gets excited at the sight of the different sea creatures, the intertwining of his and Annabeth’s fingers unconscious (and the most comfortable sensation either of them has had in ages).

 

(But this is Percy and Annabeth, and so neither of them is surprised when the content bubble of the three of them is broken a few hours later.)

 

/

 

They’d made it back to the apartment building, posted up in Percy’s apartment as Nik snoozed peacefully on Leo’s treasured beanbag, Percy at the stove whilst Annabeth sat on the counter beside him.

 

“There we go. You have twenty-five minutes of my undivided attention,” he teases, sliding off his oven mitts after getting everything started.

 

“Finally, I don’t have to compete with fish _or_ food,” she volleys back, snatching his hand and drawing him close to where she perches (Annabeth is tall, but even then Percy towers over her, so him standing and her on the elevated counter is about as close to even in height as they’ll ever get.

 

“Really, though, did you have a good time? I know marine stuff is more up my alley, but I figured Nik would like all the colored lights and I know I always learn a lot when I’m there which I figured you would like and I thought since you’re still newish to New York and I’m guessing you haven’t really explored that much it would—”

 

The more he’d spoken the more nervous he’d gotten, so without bothering to verbally reassure him  she reaches up to slide her hands across the planes of his face (as she’d been wanting to for _months_ , because good god was the man chiseled in a way that should be illegal), tugging his head toward her and finally (fucking _finally_ ) pressing her lips to his.

 

For a moment, he doesn’t react, his brain short-circuiting at the feeling that is Annabeth kissing him, his heart stuttering in the (very good) way that’s become familiar since she came into his life.

 

After a beat, though, he’s convinced it’s not a dream, and carefully slips his fingers into her thick curls, gently ( _so_ gently, as though too much force will shatter the moment, will send her running), and beginning to move his lips with hers in earnest.

 

Annabeth’s brain is a whirlwind of emotions, as she processes the moment, because going on a date with Percy is one thing, but kissing him? Entirely otherworldly. (Her heart is also racing at the agency she feels after initiating the kiss, the tremor at being able to control who kisses her for once in her goddamn life, and the series of pangs—excitement, anxiety, confusion—running through her have her in a tailspin.)

 

Eventually, they both draw apart, breathless, but Percy doesn’t stray far, pressing his forehead to hers as his fingers keep running soothingly through locks of her hair.

“Hi,” he whispers, and a giggle slips through her lips.

 

“Hi.”

 

“So…you did have a good time, then?” he asks quietly, their eye contact smoldering.

 

“I always have a good time with you, Seaweed Brain,” she tells him with a small smile. “But yes, the aquarium was perfect. It’s my turn next time though.”

 

“Fair enough. I—” the ringing of his phone cuts him off, and he purses his lips without real malice, pressing it to his ear without checking caller ID.

 

“Hello?”

 

Annabeth had guessed it would be Sally calling, but the tension that fills Percy’s body within seconds of the voice on the other end beginning to speak tells her immediately that something is off. Hesitantly, she runs her fingers down his forearm, hoping to help keep him calm, but the lightening flashing in his unfocused eyes is far too angry.

 

“Yeah, which has only happened because of the _fucking protection order_!” The outburst, the anger she’s never seen from Percy makes her eyes widen. The caller says something else briefly, and Percy’s muscles tense even further (and for the first time since she and Percy have been friends, Annabeth really considers the strength he possesses, and feels herself inching backward, making herself smaller, all the possibilities of how he might take this anger out on her running through her head, even as the logical part of herself reminds her _he flinched, Annabeth, he’s been there too, and this is **Percy**_ —because don’t an awful lot of victims go on to become abusers?)

 

“Find a way to get us another hearing, something. Have you called my mom yet?”

 

Another few remarks pass between his clenched teeth, but Annabeth is focused on curling in on herself, focused on making a plan of how she can grab Nik and get out without facing his wrath; too focused to notice him end the call and tug on his hair with anguish before looking down at her, taking in her hostile position for the first time.

 

“Fuck, Annabeth, I’m so sorry, I’m so out of line right now—I can’t believe…”

 

( _I’m going to become him_ , he thinks, horror flooding through him at the contained, resigned fear on Annabeth’s face that became so familiar on his own mother’s.)

 

She doesn’t respond, and he takes a deep breath, careful not to come any closer or speak too loudly for fear of spooking her. “My stepdad, the one I mentioned before…he used to hit my mom,” he admits in a whisper.

 

(He’d never spoken the words aloud, besides the terrible days he spent on the stand—Thalia and Nico had found out when the case went to trial, and any friend who’d ever needed to know thereafter had been told by them.)

 

  
“He would beat the shit out of both of us, whenever the fancy struck him. For over a decade. Everyone who knew me till I got to college thought I was so clumsy…pretending to be made it a lot easier to get people to not ask questions. They got married when I was really little, and he seemed nice and we were in bad shape, and then once he started to be this awful human being it was too late, because he was the only source of income, and he threatened to have each of us killed if the other ever ratted and—finally, we _finally_ got away, and the bastard only got a year’s sentence.” The bitter laugh that escapes him after the vulnerable words has Annabeth slowly inching out of the instinctive terror, listening closely as his words reinforce her mind’s words that _Percy is one of the good ones, we’re safe with him_.

 

_(what do we know about being safe?)_

 

“He got out early for good behavior though—we filed the protection orders the second we found out he would be out, one for each of us. They have to be renewed annually, and we submitted our forms as early as we could, but that was our lawyer—she said that “as no aggression was made in the last year and the order wasn’t violated,” the judge decided to deny the request to renew.”

 

Tentatively, Annabeth reaches for his hand. “That’s-that’s _horrible_ , Percy. What kind of justice system…” Well, she’d done the research, she was well aware of how fucked the justice system was, but still—to think these people could allow that monster another legal chance to go after _Sally_. “Is there any kind of appeal we can file?”

 

Percy’s throat feels less tight at the word ‘we’ slipping off of her tongue, her hand in his; for a moment, he’d worried he’d lost her, but his Annabeth seems to be back—he would need to remember to be careful around her in the future, careful to always remind her he would never hurt her, careful to try to convince her brain that he would do anything to be different from whoever made her so terrified, however long that would take.

 

“She said she’s going to try—we still have a few weeks until the old one expires, and Mom has moved apartments and jobs since the sentencing but to keep him away from where she is the protection order has to have her new residence and place of employment of course, so he knows where she is…if it doesn’t go through I don’t know what we’ll do. I’ll have to move her here so she’s not alone, or hire a bodyguard…” The mere thought makes him wince internally, because there’s absolutely _no way_ they could afford any kind of personnel, but they also couldn’t afford her to be at Gabe’s mercy (especially after the various and intricate threats that had come their way since his initial arrest several years ago).

 

“I…I don’t know what we’ll do, Percy, but we’ll figure something out. I’ll start researching it as soon as I get off tomorrow, there has to be a way we can find. We won’t let him near Sally,” she vows, and though moments ago her body’s instinctive reaction had her cowering, now she’s the one holding him together as the fear, anger, and worry make him tremble, pressing his face into her shoulder without speaking further.

 

“We’ll get through this,” she whispers, hoping to reiterate the cause for hope, to remind him that she’ll fight with him every step of the way, somehow.

 

(because her monster might be states away for now, but his is roaming the streets, and she’ll be damned if they both made it through the years of torment they did to lose now that they’re finally together, finally free, finally have a semblance of a chance at happiness.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for the wait on this chapter! Writer’s block and a lot of travel between the two summer semesters of classes got me off track, but we’re back on track! Thank you for reading!


	9. waiting for the ball to drop

"I have no idea how to make this work," Annabeth confesses to herself, fingers to her temples as she stares hopelessly at the mass of bills before her.

Normally, she wouldn't be too worried, as she was the overcautious type when it came to putting every cent she could into savings, but Nik had just had a crazy growth spurt and needed all new clothes; even second hand, on top of diapers and formula and every other thing it added up to a lot. Worse, it had been slower at work, and the people who _had_ been coming in had apparently decided that while they could spend absurd amounts of money on food, they didn't need to leave over ten percent even though she worked her ass off to keep them taken care of.

"Why do you have your overthinking look on your face?"

She jumps in surprise at Percy's voice, not having heard him come in, but relaxes at the familiar press of his lips to her forehead before he slides into the seat next to her. He leans forward to read the pages crumpled before her, sticky notes with crossed-out math and random ideas of how to make the funds she _did_ have stretch, and grimaces with recognition.

"Ah. One of those days?" She nods, and he leans to pull her into him. Face pressed into his chest, she feels herself starting to relax, the familiar smell that's somehow so very _Percy_ permeating her senses and somehow convincing her brain things are going to be okay. "I'm sorry, Wise Girl. It's so…so frustrating."

So frustrating that Annabeth was the smartest, most compassionate, most hardworking human he'd ever met besides his mom, and she was drowning in stress despite it all, while the kids he sat in class with didn't have a care in the world, didn't have to worry about money or not being able to focus on their classes because they were busy trying to keep a roof over their own head—they lived off their parents money and had never known any different.

He slowly releases her, and pulls the dreaded pages closer to him. After a minute, he exhales heavily. "Okay, you get paid next Friday, right?" At her confirmation, he pushes all but one of the papers and sticky notes into one pile, the remaining two in another. "Okay so I think you should pay all of these now. Our building doesn't fine you until you're more than a month late, so you can wait to pay rent till that paycheck comes in."

"I can't pay rent late!" She winces at how sharp her tone is, but the principle of the thing isn't even a question to her.

"Babe, I don't know that there's any other option. I'll go with you if you want to talk to the landlord about it and give him a heads up, and I know the thought of having a late payment on your record stresses you out a lot, but at least this way you can make all of the payments."

"Even if I do, that still leaves groceries. I get a free meal at work every day but that's not enough with how much running around and pumping milk I have to do."

"You can just join in our pool—everything is a lot cheaper when we buy in bulk for everyone and make meals that leave leftovers instead of for individuals. That's why I started cooking," he confesses, cheeks flushed. "Anyway, we each pitch in like twenty or thirty bucks every two weeks. Saves us all a lot of money."

She bites her lip, but takes him up on the offer, desperately needing the alternative he's offering (because she coupons and uses every trick in the book to try to make ends meet, but it's not working, and as much as she would be willing to skip as many meals as it took to take care of Nik, it's just not an option when she's his main source of food).

(The tiny part of her that spends pretty much all of its time thinking about Percy flutters at the kindness in his willingness to take on her problems as his own, without trying to offer her money they both know she won't take; the easy way he works to make her problems _theirs_.)

Standing, grateful to leave the cluster of stress on her kitchen table, she and Percy enter the living room, where Nik babbles excitedly at the sight of them. Annabeth scowls at the sight of him laying on his back, flipping him back onto his front for what had been long dubbed 'tummy time'. "Did you flip him over when you came in?"

"Nope."

"Don't lie to me, Percy, and don't flip him, you know him lying on his stomach is important for him learning to crawl!"

"Annabeth, I swear I didn't move him! I said hi but he was already on his back."

"Well you must've moved him, how else would he—"

"Annabeth," he interrupts her, his voice a whisper and his eyes wide. She follows his gaze down to Nik, who is giggling and—on his back? But hadn't she flipped him?

"Did he just…"

"I think he did," Percy breathes. "Oh my god."

"Oh my god," she repeats squatting down to pick Nik up, happy tears forming in her eyes. "Did you just roll over all by yourself, honey? Mama is so, so proud of you!"

He responds nonsensically, excited by all the attention, and Annabeth lies him back down. "Go on, sweet pea, do it again so we can see!" She's so entranced with watching him it takes her a minute to realize Percy is almost as thrilled behind her, his camera out and videotaping the kid as they urge him to demonstrate his new skill.

(It crossed Annabeth's mind that while she'd easily referred to the others who was close to her as an aunt or uncle of Nik's, she had never addressed Percy toward her son.)

(Probably because the title she wishes she could give him at heart was terrifying to consider.)

/

\

/

" _He's not done with Greece yet—the king of Sparta takes on possibly his biggest role yet in the upcoming production of_ Odysseus _, in the lead role! Coming next fall."_

As soon as he realized who the commercial was referring to he turned to a tense Piper (who had never _confirmed_ , per say, that Tristan McLean was her father, but Percy had guessed as much early on in their friendship, and it was pretty clear that something not-so-great had happened between them, so he tried to change the channel whenever Tristan was mentioned).

The damage had been done this time, though; sorrow is leaking through her eyes despite the sleeping baby she holds in her arms.

(They'd argued over who got to take care of Nik while Annabeth was at work and had compromised, watching him together at Percy's place, where Piper spent a lot of time anyway because of Leo.)

(Timers were being consistently set to switch turns because they both wanted to cuddle him while he slept without Annabeth there to remind them he needed to get used to sleeping in the playpen and not in someone's arms.)

"You know," he said hesitantly, carefully making eye contact. "If you were to ever want to talk about it…that would be okay. I know it must be hard because he's…him, and people probably take his word because he's famous, but I'd believe you. I know you had to have a good reason to run so far."

She considers this for a moment, then sighs, and turns to face him. "He was never…I mean, he never deprived me or mistreated me, or anything, but he was never a very affectionate dad. He had his assistants get whatever they deemed I needed, and figured buying me everything under the sun was a substitute for actual parenting or love or…any interaction whatsoever, really.

"His main assistant, Jane," she continues, disgust palpable in her voice at saying the woman's name, "she hated me. Wanted to get with him, and saw me as, I don't know, an obstacle? Or maybe just hated me from the offset? Whatever it was, she kept framing me for things. I mean, yeah, I did a couple of wild things to try to get his attention, dying my hair and cutting it and dressing provocatively, breaking curfew and all that, but I would never do anything that would affect anyone else, you know?"

She shook her head, just talking about the situation enough to remind her how angry she had been, the rage rippling through her even as the sight of her nephew made her heart swell. "It was little things at first, and she kept telling him how everything was going to get worse and I needed to be sent away; she broke things, hid all kinds of drugs in my backpack and got me expelled from school, and eventually she framed me for stealing a BMW."

( _"Why would I need to steal one when I could just_ ask _?"_ she'd demanded of her father when the accusation was leveled, and he'd looked at her like she was disgraceful. _"I only wish I knew, Piper. But you've become a pathological liar. Jane thinks…"_ )

('Jane thinks' was the precursor to all of her misery for about five years.)

"I almost got sent to juvie, but my lawyer talked them down to probation…ended two days before graduation. I left for the airport straight from the ceremony."

"Damn, Pipes," Percy frowns. "How could he believe her over you? How could he…"

(Because he'd been through something terrible, but to think about his mom not believing him while someone did those kinds of things? A different kind of terrible. Painful, right down to your soul, when someone who was supposed to love you more than this world cared so little.)

"I wish I knew," she whispers, pressing her forehead to Nik's. "I just hope one day everything comes to light. Maybe then he won't be under her spell, and we can…have some semblance of a relationship again."

Until then, watching his movies was as close as it would get.

/

\

/

" _Tell me the truth, honey, has he been a gentleman? You know I'll come up there and give him a talking to if he hasn't."_

"He's been perfect, Sally," Annabeth promises, shaking her head with a smile. The man in question was currently babysitting (what Annabeth had begun to affectionately refer to as 'kidnapping'), and had taken him to the park so she could run errands and take a nap after pulling three doubles in a row at work.

It had only been two weeks since that first date, but it had been as easy as breathing to turn their friendship into a relationship, the main difference being that they now did a lot more kissing (and Percy absentmindedly whispered about how beautiful she was like an awestruck preteen whenever he thought she wasn't paying attention).

(It was Percy, though; she was always paying attention.)

" _Good. That changes and you just let me know. Now, really, how are you doing, sweetheart? You sound awfully tired."_

Even through the phone, the older woman saw right through her, refusing to discuss her current legal situation and impending jeopardized safety because the second they got on the phone (as they did pretty often), she knew something was not right with Annabeth.

( _Something_ being the nightmares perforating her sleep even more frequently, because as much as she loved her newfound physical affection with Percy—had never realized how much she desperately craved it, how much she loved human contact and holding hands and falling asleep curled up together on the futon—her brain only had one thing to compare it to, and so her life before New York had been a lot more fresh on her mind, in waking and in dreams.)

"I'm okay. I…there's kind of a lot going on in my brain, stuff that I really just have to work through with time, I think. Percy helps, though. He makes me really happy."

" _You deserve all of the happiness in the world, Annabeth. Don't you ever forget that, okay? I don't know what you've been through, but what I_ do _know is that you are so strong, and such an amazing mother. I can't imagine anyone being better for Percy, but more importantly, I can't in a million years imagine a better mother to Nik."_

She swallows thickly, accepting the compliments and telling Sally she loves her and she'll talk to her soon, but the buried part of her hiding in her chest that's been mourning for the better part of two years, the part that sometimes aches when she looks down at Nik, sobs for hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from here on out, things are going to start getting intense (which is exciting because those are the parts I'm most excited to write!) stay tuned, and thank you for reading!!


	10. when i was drowning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: things are going DOWN in this chapter. I hadn't intended this particular scene to happen this soon, but I was writing and it just felt right...thank you for reading

"I think I want to get a tattoo," she tells Percy nervously, watching him out of the corner of her eye for his reaction.

She planned the date this time; a battle of the bands event in the band shell at a public park nearby (the best kind of date because it was free), which they had intended to bring Nik to until Piper snatched him up, wagging her finger at them.

(She'd claimed they needed 'alone time' every once in a while, and besides, Auntie Piper hadn't gotten nearly enough Nik-love lately, what with the second round of midterms crucifying them all.)

"Really? Do you have something specific in mind, or do you just want one in general?" he asks, curious, head in her lap as she runs her fingers through his hair, resisting the urge to purr.

"Something specific. A branch with two birds…" she trails off, not making eye contact. "I-I don't really want to talk about what it means right now, if that's okay, because it kind of hurts to think about. But I'd like to tell you someday."

"Whenever you're ready, I'll be honored to hear it," he promises, squeezing her knee lightly.

She opens her mouth to respond, but before a sound escapes her she catches sight of white blond hair, some three rows ahead of them. She gasps in air without meaning too, feeling her heart rate rise and terror fill her; he's here, he's here and Nik isn't with her, and now she's put Percy in danger.

She sputters out, "He found me, he found me, he found me," too quiet for Percy's ears- but he realizes something is wrong when he can feel her shaking.

"Wise Girl? Annabeth? Hey, what's wrong?" Sitting up, worry floods him at the horror on her face, skin paler than he's ever seen it. "Annabeth, you have to breathe, okay? Just breathe, baby, you're okay, come on."

By now, _he_ 's turned around, but though his face isn't the one from her nightmares, Annabeth can't feel the relief she wants to, and she's too lost inside her own mind to acknowledge Percy.

(Because it _could_ be him, and maybe it's not this time, but one day it will be. He'll find her.)

Overwhelmed, Percy keeps whispering without a clue as to what set her off, saying every possible thing he can come up with to comfort her but to no avail.

"Let me." While they'd bumped into Nico shortly after arriving, he'd gone off to experience the concert on his own, so his voice is the last one Percy expected.

"Neeks, I don't know what happened, but I'm really worried, I don't—"

"Panic attack," Nico says by way of explanation, no preamble, scooting next to Annabeth on the grass. "Hey Annabeth, I don't know where you're at in your head right now, but you're here, okay? We're in the park, you, me, and Percy, and we're completely safe. We're gonna get you home now, so you feel more secure, but I promise we're here with you and you're okay, alright?"

Her eyes move faintly, and Percy haphazardly shoves their sprawled belongings into the canvas bag they'd lugged along, helping Nico pull Annabeth to her feet.

Slowly, they make their way back to the apartment building, Percy holding onto Annabeth's hand to remind her he's there silently as Nico keeps reminding her that she is okay, that they are with her. By the time they approach the complex, she nods in response to his words, feeling less liable to fall apart despite the exhaustion and shakiness throughout her body.

They step inside the apartment to a smiling Piper, whose expression quickly turns to concern as Percy moves forward to speak to her. Without a word, Annabeth holds her hands out and Piper places Nik into them, and it's this, this visceral reminder of where she is and of Nik's safety that really makes her feel like herself again.

"I'm okay," she assures them quietly. "Go ahead home, Pipes. I need to be with him right now, and I think after Percy leaves we're both going to take a long nap.

_A nap likely to be ridden with nightmares, but a modicum of rest, at least._

Piper presses a kiss to her cheek softly, grasping Nik's tiny fingers before heading out, mirroring Percy's pained expression.

"I'm, uh, gonna leave you two to it, but…if you ever want to talk about them, or anything, I get it. I got them really bad for a while…still do, every once in a while, if I get triggered bad enough."

"Thank you, Nico. Really." He shrugs before leaving as well, and Percy carefully sits next to Annabeth on the futon, unsure as to whether or not she wants to be the first one to speak.

When she doesn't, shoulders still curved in her body a bit like she's scared, he starts to talk like he always does when she gets nervous, knowing it's easier to open up once someone else has without feeling weak.

"I…I've never had one," he admits. "I have no idea what you're feeling right now. But I have been that kind of scared before, and I know it takes a lot out of you, so I really want to make sure you eat and drink something before you lay down, okay?"

She nods without making eye contact, then asks in an undertone, "What happened to Nico? If—if you don't think he'd mind me knowing."

"He wouldn't," Percy replies, eyebrows scrunching up. "It's, uh, touchy for him to talk about, but he doesn't care if people know. His older sister, Bianca…well, their dad isn't exactly the best guy out there. He pissed some people off, and…they retaliated. Came after Bianca and Nico while they were walking home from the bus stop a few years ago. She threw him up into a dumpster as soon as she heard the first shot, but she didn't make it."

"God, that's awful," she whispers. "He must be in so much pain…"

"We've each had our very own hell, haven't we?" he says with a bitter tone.

 _So many times over_. "Yeah. Yeah we have."

"We, um, we don't have to talk about today, if you don't want to. I mean, if you do, I would love to be here however you need, but I kind of get the feeling that you aren't ready yet, and I just meant that that's okay because I know you're still kind of mentally dealing with a lot, but I kind of don't want to leave you here alone after that and also if you're not feeling super safe and all I know if it were me I would feel better having someone else there, and now I'm just rambling," he ends abruptly, neck reddening.

"You—you want to stay?"

"Of course." He reaches out cautiously to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, relaxing internally at the sight of her functioning starting to look more familiar. "I can lay down on the floor, and I don't—we don't have to, um, do anything, that's not—I just, really think it would be good for you to not be alone, and also I don't want to leave you while I'm worried about you."

He blushes at the subject, them not having had a real conversation about anything remotely sexual yet, but she doesn't take it the wrong way, moving to lay Nik down before responding.

"Okay."

Percy's eyes widen in shock, having expected to have to beg a little more, but she nods deliberately as if knowing he's doubting his ears.

"I—you can lie on the futon with me, but I—I need you to be in front of me," the words slip out of her unintentionally, desperately, and she stares at her feet to avoid seeing his reaction to the odd request.

Because she wants to lie down with Percy—thus far in their relationship, his presence had always soothed her, made her feel the slightest bit safe, and truly, after today she wanted nothing more than to curl into him.

(But to wake up with a man in bed behind her, unable to see his face and remind her razor-edged instincts that it was Percy—few things would be more terrifying.)

"Whatever you need," he reminds her softly, before helping her to pull the futon out into bed form.

Slowly, he climbs on and to the far side, hoping to not be boxed in by the wall might make her more comfortable, and she slides beneath the thick quilt beside him. Breathing shallow, she lets him delicately hold her close, lips touching to her forehead before she tucks her head into his chest.

"I've got you," he promises in a quiet whisper.

He has no idea what it is that haunts her, and as much as he wants her to open up to him whenever she's able, wants to help her through whatever this is, the thought of finally knowing scares him stiff.

(Because whatever fire it is that she's had to drag herself through, whatever someone has done to traumatize the mind-blowingly strong creature he's lucky enough to hold in his arms, it's something bad. Really, really bad.)

It makes him quiver with rage in a way that frightens him just to think about, makes him want to hunt down whoever dared take a sliver of the light from her eyes.

(And he doesn't know how well he'll handle knowing the extent of it.)

/

\

/

" _Did you really think I wouldn't find you, Bethy?" His lecherous hands slide around her and she flinches violently, mentally screaming, trapped in his arms, as she has been for so many years._

" _Let me go! Please, please, just let me go," she begs, her voice breaking._

_Nik begins to sob: real, chest-heaving sobs of fear, despairing as she slams against his grip to get to her baby._

" _What is that?" His voice is ice, and he drags her to the playpen where Nik lies screeching._

" _He's-he's a friend's son, I'm just watching him, I swear."_

" _It doesn't matter whose he is, he won't be an issue much longer."_

_She screams as he reaches for the helpless boy without any idea as to the danger he's in, screams as her dream morphs into him crushing her, kneeling over her and muttering obscenely in the home she grew up in._

"Annabeth!"

She jerks alert, wetness on her face and her heart racing a million miles an hour.

"I—sorry if I woke you," she pants breathlessly, fanning at the sweat on her neck.

"Wise Girl, I don't care if I have to wake up ten times a night if I can help snap you out faster." He frowns, gently stroking the side of her face. "That sounded like a bad one."

"Yeah, not my most peaceful rest ever," she acknowledges. _You're here, Annabeth. You're with Percy, Nik is safe, and he is nowhere near you._ She repeats the reminder, but the part of her that learned a long time ago that escape was impossible denies it.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I…I think I might." The confession is hesitant, and Percy feels his own eyes widen in surprise, but quickly straightens up, moving into a criss-cross-applesauce kind of position, all of his attention focused on her.

"It…fuck, I have no idea how to do this," she admits, and she and Percy both let out an abbreviated laugh before she sighs and tries to get it together.

(How does one put it into words, calmly explain the horrors of their life? Percy had done it and she'd never stopped to appreciate how well the words flowed.)

"My home situation…" she breaks off, shakes her head, tries again. "Nik's conception wasn't intentional," she begins. "He…it was…" Annabeth bites her lip, beginning to tremble, but remembers Luke's words: _acknowledge the reality of what you've been through_. She can do this.  _Just say it._

"I was raped."

The words are out, and it hurts, and Percy's intake of breath is sharp, but she can't face him, can't see what must be running through his eyes, so she continues. "It wasn't, um, the first time. My stepmother's younger brother…he moved in with us right after my dad died. He was seventeen at the time, and he started…pretty soon after.

"I told Helen a year or so later. She didn't care." She says the words without emotion, but then water starts sliding down her face before she can stop it, and Percy can't bring himself to speak but reaches to wipe at the tears.

"That's why I ran away. I told Thalia, and she tried to tell the police when they sent me back, but…Helen has a great reputation in the community. No one believed it. I was set to go to an Ivy, as far as they knew, but as soon as I found out about Nik, I had to get out. That's why I ended up at NYU. If he'd found out about him…if he'd been a girl…" Trailing off, she nervously looked up at Percy, only to find tears pouring from his eyes.

"Annabeth," he whispered, voice cracking.

He's always known the statistics—one in five women is assaulted in her lifetime, a number and a concept his mom has drilled into his head since he knew what girls were.

(But knowing about this abstract atrocity done to women around the world doesn't mean you would ever guess the one you've fallen in love with has survived it. Doesn't mean you could ever begin to fathom what happens to a person who's been through it.)

"I can't even…I can't even imagine. You are so, so strong. That bastard…hell isn't good enough for him."

He reaches for her in that slow, careful way of his, the way he's tried to since he picked up on her aversion to unexpected physical touch weeks ago, and she lets him hold her, basking in the righteous anger splayed across his face on her behalf.

"I'm sorry," she whispered back, and he recoiled, locking eyes with her.

"What the fuck could you possibly be sorry for?"

"I don't know, I just…it's a lot to take on, and it's heavy, and a lot in a girlfriend who already has a kid, and now this…"

"Yeah, it's _heavy_ , Annabeth—and you've carried it all alone, on top of everything else you've been through, and you've loved Nik like nothing in this world, been the most amazing mother—"

A sob tears out of Annabeth's throat, and she shakes her head vehemently. "I'm not, I'm not, I'm really not."

"But you are, baby, Nik is the luckiest—"

"No!" she shouts, her tongue rising two octaves. "You don't understand."

"Then tell me, Wise Girl. I promise, there is not one thing you could possibly tell me that will affect the way I feel about you. I love you."

Her heart stutters, and she wants to say it back, wants to admit that she's loved him for a lot longer than she probably should've, but that's not the topic that wants to consumer her mind at the moment, so those aren't the words spilling out of her mouth.

"I…about two years ago." Raspy, nervous, pained, suffering more than he's ever heard her, she speaks. "I found out I was pregnant. I was stupid, thought I could hide the baby…

"But he figured it out. He and Helen beat me and plied me with alcohol till I miscarried." The last words are ground together, between the heavy sobs escaping her. "That's what the tattoo is. One bird on the branch, for Nik, and the other flying, for the baby that died. All my fault. That's why I was so quick to get out as soon as I found out about Nik."

 _Because my baby has already died because of me, because how could I fail another?_ She wants to beg him.

Her crying grows stronger, and he breathes deeply, trying to put himself together enough to comfort her because _goddammit she's the one struggling, Jackson, get it together and be there for her already._

"My god, Wise Girl…no wonder you're so sad. That kind of loss, that kind of guilt, even though you don't deserve to carry it…to lose a kid is the worst pain in this world. I'm so sorry you went through that."

"But he—you didn't sign up for—I just feel like a chaotic mass of wreckage. I'm an unnecessary complication, you have enough going on, and you don't need to deal with my problems."

"Did he tell you that?" Percy's tone is venomous, more angry than she's every heard him. "Annabeth…to know you, to love you, is the greatest thing I've ever done. You're a mess because someone _hurt_ you, and yeah, I want to kill him, but that has no impact on my feelings for you, okay? I love you, I love your son, I love the unborn child we'll never get to know, and nothing anyone has ever done to you changes that."

And Percy's presence might not wish away the nightmares, wish away the monsters that still haunt her every second, but it sure helps her fall asleep, and even when the nightmares come again, a whisper in her brain reminds her that she might not be alone anymore through the torture.


	11. to learn how to fight for myself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello all of you incredibly lovely people! I hope everyone is having a wonderful summer (or winter if you’re in the southern hemisphere, v jealous if you have snow currently)
> 
> 1-I am so sorry for this wait; in all honestly, I’ve just had no inspiration, and I’d rather take longer to update and put out something real, something both y’all as readers and the story itself deserve. I think the next update will come much sooner, as writer’s block seems to have vacated its jerk self (finally)
> 
> 2-thank you SO SO much for all of the reviews you’ve left!! I smile every time the notification pops up on my phone, and it really means a lot that people have anything at all to say about something I’ve written (especial thanks to those of you kind enough to leave reviews and thoughts on every single chapter, your feedback and encouragement mean the world and make me a better writer)
> 
> Okay, I’ll shut up now—enjoy the chapter!!

“I think you’re enjoying this more than you should,” Annabeth mutters through gritted teeth, and Thalia doesn’t bother to hide her smirk.

 

“I promise ninety-nine percent of my enjoyment of this comes from knowing you’re going to wear my art. I’m honored.”

 

“And one percent relishing in taking a needle to my collarbone.”

 

Percy snickers from beside her, squeezing her hand as he watches Thalia carefully trace the stencil with the tattoo gun. “At least you know she’s felt this too—Thals is _covered_ in ink. Imagine how long she must’ve sat for all that.”

 

“It’s not even the actual pain so much as how freaky it is; I mean, yeah, the needle stings, but the whole vibration-directly-on-the-bone thing is what I’m really not a fan of.”

 

“Yeah, that’s the real kicker. Ribs are the worst,” Thalia grimaces, pausing to wipe at Annabeth’s skin. “Alright, kiddo, you’re just about done. Go ahead and tell me what you think.”

 

Annabeth slowly walks over to the mirror, the strap of her tank top still pulled to the side. Her reflection is  familiar: tired and pale, although slightly less thin since she’s been meal-sharing with Percy, Nico, and Leo.

 

More importantly, her eyes focus on the image now gracing her collarbone, slightly elevated and still stinging somewhat, the branch with both of her little birds jutting upward of her heart.

 

“I love it.” She reaches to squeeze Thalia’s hand in thanks, refraining from holding her fingers to the image of the bird flying away. _You’re with me forever, now, bean,_ she thinks towards the baby she’ll never know.

 

Carefully watching her wipe her eyes, Percy moves to her side. “You okay? We can go home and make something to eat if you don’t feel up to going out still.”

 

“No,” she assures him, taking a deep breath. “I—this is a good kind of hurt. It…it’s like I finally have evidence of her, like the world can finally see evidence that she did live, even just for a little bit.” She gives him a pained smile, then turns back to Thalia. “Should I bother trying to pay you for this, or will you throw my money back at me?”

 

“I don’t know why you ask questions you already know the answer to.”

 

“Fine. Thank you, really. I’ll see you Wednesday?”

 

“Count on it. Luke has some stuff for Nik, if he remembers to bring it.”

 

The corners of Annabeth’s mouth twitch upward. “Sweet of him, but if he keeps this up there won’t be space to walk in my apartment.”

 

Exiting the shop, Percy slips his fingers through hers. “I’m assuming you’re just letting her think you won’t give her the money?”

 

She laughs, feeling a warmth in her heart at having someone so close to her, someone who knows her so well. “She just leaves her cash rolling around in her purse without bothering to put it in her wallet, she’ll never notice some extra twenties amongst the rest.”

 

“Wise Girl, you are one of a kind.”

 

“All done?” Piper’s voice shakes Annabeth from the part of her brain entirely devoted to Percy, and she looks up to see both Jason and Piper herself before her on the sidewalk, Nik in arms looking thrilled at the playtime had whilst his mother was tattooed.

 

“Mmmm b b ba ba oooh ah.”

 

“Tell me more, sweetheart,” Annabeth smiles at Nik, who continues to happily babble as though telling her about his day.

 

“He was great,” Jason promises her with a grin. “And he’s been wide awake and energetic all day, so he’ll be ready for a verrrry nice nap whenever you get home.”

 

“As will Jason,” Piper stage-whispers conspiratorially to Percy. “The way he runs around with him you’d think he could fly.”

 

“It’s called _imagination_ , Pipes,” he tosses back, slinging an arm around her shoulder. They both blush, barely noticeably, and Annabeth has to hold back a smirk at the way they continue to dance around the blurring edges of their friendship.

 

They all chatter as they walk back towards the pizzeria nearby, but Annabeth frowns at Percy’s oddly quiet demeanor, only reacting when either Piper or Jason speaks directly to him.

 

“What’s wrong?” she whispers, gently catching his shoulder before he can enter the restaurant behind Piper.

 

“Nothing, I’m fine,” he says, smile forced.

 

“Percy. I love you. You’re always here when something is not okay in my world—please just let me do the same, okay? I know when something’s bothering you, just tell me what it is.”

 

He hesitates, starts to shake his head, then sighs. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you about it. It’s just…it won’t help. Today’s the last day of the protection order.”

 

Annabeth’s eyes widen, filling with worry. “Oh, God, Sally.”

 

“Yeah. I have no idea what to do, what I even can do to protect her.”

 

She steels herself, gripping his arm and rapidly running through scenarios of ways to help him. “So, we go to Manhattan, stay with your mom for a few days. We can find her some kind of security system that’s not too expensive, or one of the emergency buzzers to wear around her neck and immediately contact authorities. We’ll make sure she’s okay.”

 

“We can’t afford to take off to go for a few days,” he says wistfully, kissing her cheek in appreciation.

 

“We can find some other way to make ends meet and go if it means your mother’s safety.”

 

“You-you think it could work?” he asks apprehensively.

 

“We’ll make it work,” she promises, sending him inside to eat while she starts to dial both of their bosses and cite a family emergency.

 

/

\

/

 

 

“A guy on my team today said it was crazy how I _like_ working so much,” Percy tells her with a bitter grin, sitting across the table from her at the café.

 

“Of course he did.” She rolls her eyes, capping the yellow highlighter in hand and exchanging it for a blue before going back through the page before her. “Did you tell him how you also _like_ being able to afford to eat?”

 

“Totally clueless.”

 

“People don’t really consider that other people might not have the same kind of parents as them.” The feeling resonates between them, but she clears her throat and offers a tight smile. “Any word from your mom?”

 

“Yeah, she said everything’s okay still. She, er, actually told me I needed to stop bugging her or she was going to block me and put you on speed dial instead.”

 

Annabeth narrows her eyes at him. “Exactly how many times have you tried to check in with her since we left Sunday night?”

 

“…once.”

 

“Perseus.”

 

“Once every hour,” he mumbles, and while she face palms she can’t help but find his worry for his mother endearing, reaching over to poke him in the chest.

 

“Christ, Seaweed Brain, no wonder she’s a little fed up.”

 

He pur       ses his lips, eyes growing more serious. “I know it seems unnecessary, I just…I couldn’t bear it if I were just going about my day as though everything were normal and something happened to her.”

 

“And no one could blame you for that; you have reason to believe she’s in danger, so it makes sense that you want to be vigilant. But Percy, you can’t let your whole life become this fear of a possibility. I know it can feel like it consumes you, and I can’t really fathom how you must feel about it all, but you and Sally both deserve more than half a life lived.”

 

“Yeah yeah, better to have lived and lost, I know. It’s just…hard, to put that into practice.”

 

“Believe me, I know. But you’ll get through this. And I have to believe that one day, there will be some kind of karma, some kind of reward for having survived the things we have…otherwise there’s not really a point to it all.”

 

She slides out from her seat and wraps her arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

 

“Having you and Nik helps. And Nico, and Thalia, and even Luke…I think the two of us are a lot more alike than we ever realized.”

 

“That makes sense.” She smiles deviously, but he misses it, tracing circles on her palm. “Did I ever mention that Luke was the first boy I ever had a crush on?”

 

“Of course he was,” he grumbles with a playful scowl. “I take it back, I hate him.”

 

“Baby, even if he weren’t way older, he’s never been what I needed. No one has, even the ones who’ve tried. But you…you just waltzed into my life exactly right. You try to help me put myself back together with the broken pieces already here, instead of using new ones to rebuild me yourself.”

 

“Why wouldn’t I? It has to be you,” he says simply, not really comprehending that there could be another way—another way besides supporting her, a way based on _him_ , the way half the love stories out there proclaim.

 

“And that’s why I love you. Things that aren’t what I _need_ …they don’t even cross your mind.”

 

He smiles, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, and she leans closer, her mouth pressed to his ear.

 

“Also, you’re really hot. And when you’re with Nik, treating him like the best thing there is…god, there is nothing more attractive in this entire world.”

 

“Odds we go home right now?” He asks, voice low, and she has to force herself to sit back down in her seat, reclaiming the highlighter with an unsteady hand.

 

“Zero. But if you get through two more chapters and make it three hours without texting your mom, the odds are heavily in your favor.”

 

Percy immediately drops his gaze to the notes, practically tossing his phone at her to keep it away, and she smirks even as she fans her heated face.

 

\

/

\

 

“So, I never got the story, how did you and Reyna meet?”

 

Zoe’s eyes drop to her ring and she practically glows at the thought of her wife, before looking back up at Annabeth.

 

“On the subway, actually. It was crazy hectic, but she was just sitting there stoic as ever, buried in a criminal law textbook. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. The train jerked suddenly and the book went flying, and I lunged for it—it’s embarrassing, honestly, how far out of my way I went to be the one to hand it back to her. I’d been thinking about law school recently, though, and I finally had the credit to apply for a loan, so I started to ask her about it, and she was getting off at the next stop so we agreed to meet for coffee so she could give me more detail, and…”

 

“The rest is history,” Annabeth finishes for her with warm smile. “It’s amazing how the love of your life can come when you least expect it.”

 

“Honestly,” Zoe agrees, and while Annabeth is in her line of vision she can tell the other girl is far away. “I was actually on my way home from an AA meeting. My relationship with my last boyfriend,” her jaw tightens, and she swallows perfunctorily, and Annabeth’s stomach clenches at the familiar darkness flashing across Zoe’s face. “It didn’t end well. I couldn’t handle—everything—and Thalia dragged me to my first meeting after months of me being practically a ghost.

 

“And then I saw Reyna, and I just…couldn’t stop looking. I hadn’t even realized I was bi before I met her, but the second I did I just wanted to know everything about her.”

 

“And now you’re spending the rest of your lives together.”

 

“I can’t imagine anything better,” Zoe admits, and the blonde feels her heart stutter at imagining that kind of love, that kind of commitment.

 

(More specifically, imagining it with Percy.)

 

“And what of you and Percy?”

 

 _This woman is too damn perceptive._ “We’re…we’re really good.” Annabeth feels the corners of her mouth turn upward and stills her fidgeting hands. “I never imagined myself in any kind of relationship, and to feel so strongly for someone, so comfortable around him…it’s strange.”

 

Zoe nods slowly in understanding. “When Percy and I first met, I was skeptical and wanted nothing to do with him. Because of Thalia, though, we ended up around each other quite a lot, though, and he was much more than I expected. He’s the best man I’ve ever known. The first one I’ve liked in…in a very, very long time.”

 

Annabeth knows that tone so well, and when she makes eye contact with Zoe she’s sure—sure their emotions stem from a very similar place. Sure the two of them might eventually be much closer than they are now, bonded in suffering, in survival.

 

“Yeah,” she says softly, relishing in the undercurrent of emotion flowing between them. “Me too.”


	12. still trying to find it

Piper had been shivering for weeks.

 

At first, Annabeth had thought it might be a fever, maybe some kind of belated flu. A hormonal fluctuation.

 

(But it had been months, now, and it was eighty degrees out, and Piper was _always_ cold.)

 

She was clever enough to paint her fingernails, but Annabeth had been paying careful attention to her toes when her best friend took her shoes off.

 

(The nails were blue with hypoxia. Always.)

 

There were a million explanations out there, and she hoped it wasn’t what lurked in the back of her mind as the brunette grew more exhausted all the time, running more and more before work every day even as she grew weaker and weaker. As her collarbones grew sharper and sharper.

 

(As the peach fuzz of lanugo crept over her skin. After she claimed having eaten at home every time they hung out.

 

(After she excused herself to the bathroom quickly whenever the situation called for her to eat with them all.)

 

She saw the signs, all of them stacking up one after the either until the list was too high for her to wait it out, for her to hope that Piper might get better on her own.

 

Unsure of how to convince the other girl of how sick she really was—how to tell her she desperately loved her whilst begging her to stop.

 

She’d picked up on the symptoms since before Valentine’s day, and it was now nearly June, and god only knew how long Piper had managed to hide them before she’d managed to notice.

 

(Because like herself, all Piper ever wanted was control; conceived in the epicenter of Hollywood, it was no wonder this was what the rejected daughter of Tristan McLean needed to feel mastery over. Needed to feel good enough in.)

 

She’d asked Jason and Leo to lunch, a day she knew Piper was working—they’d known before she even got the words out, faces displaying a grim understanding.

 

Leo’s the one to break the silence first, voice quiet. “The only thing I’ve been able to convince her to eat without a conveniently timed trip to the bathroom is celery.”

 

“It’s a common negative calorie food,” Jason explains, eyes closed, face ashen. “Burns more to chew than it even has, being pretty much all water.”

 

“She’s been having dizzy spells, too,” Annabeth chimes in softly. “Tries not to make it obvious, but getting up takes her a lot longer than it used to—stands there breathing for a second before she can walk without fainting.”

 

“I looked at her phone last time she fell asleep during movie night—she’s doing thirty thousand steps a day. Even when she _doesn’t_ work.”

 

She bites her lip, looking between the only other two people she know who can fathom how hard this is—to watch someone she adores, slipping away into nothing without a word. Without noticing. “I—I don’t know what to do.” The admission burns coming out of her throat, and she swallows heavily. “I don’t know how to help her without her lashing out at us. And then she’ll hide everything even more, and we’ll have no idea how bad it gets.”

 

“We have to do _something_ ,” Leo says despairingly. “I know we can’t afford to send her to an inpatient program, and she couldn’t afford the time off work, but…could we bring in a dietician to talk to her? Do you think that would help?”

 

“I don’t think it’s the facts of it she doesn’t know,” Jason shakes his head gently, eyebrows scrunched together. “I think she just feels like she needs to, because of everything with her dad. She’s always…” He trails off, clearing his throat. “She’s always had this thing about being perfect enough, especially for him. I think if we could find a psychologist with a small enough copay, maybe talking to someone would help?”

 

“We should eat meals with her too. Like, one of us always with her, and eating the same things—healthy, but like, enough. Maybe if she’s watching us eat the exact same things, she’ll see that there completely normal portions, and I mean, I know eating disorders mess with your perception of your own appearance, but she can see us okay, right? So if she sees us being healthy and strong with the same meals she is, maybe we can work to counteract her brain?”  
  


“That’s a really good idea, Leo,” Annabeth nods definitively. “And the psychologist too. But whatever this intervention is going to be…it needs to happen soon.”

 

(She doesn’t have to say the words—they all know if it doesn’t, Piper will continue to disappear before their very eyes.)

 

/

/

/

 

“Annabeth, you will not _believe_ what Marnie said to me today.”

 

Piper’s voice is chipper—she sounds happier than Annabeth can remember her really being in a while, and she feels guilty at the thought of how quickly that good mood is about to dissipate.

 

But it has to be done. For Piper’s health.

 

(For Piper’s life.)

 

“Jason? Leo? Are you three having a party while I’m slaving away?” The teasing tone is still there, but within a moment she can tell something’s up, the smile slipping off her face as she notices the severity of her three best friends’ expressions. “Guys? What’s…what’s going on? Annabeth, where’s Nik?”

 

“He’s with Percy. Piper, we…we need to talk to you about something.”

 

The brunette is immediately on guard, body tensing and arms crossed (but trembling—as they always do, lately).

 

“What the hell is going on? Jase? Valdez?”

 

Jason stands, carefully taking Piper’s hand (wincing internally at how cold it is, starting to rub it unconsciously) and leading her to the futon next to Annabeth.

 

“We love you more than anyone, Beauty Queen,” Leo starts gently. “You know that, right?”

 

“Yeah, I know that. You guys are my family—my annoyingly cryptic family that’s currently fucking scaring me. You’re acting like I’m dying.”

 

Her wording hits all three of them in the gut, Jason’s unoccupied fist clenching almost imperceptibly.

 

“If we’re being honest, honey, you’re well on your way. We’re—we're really worried about you, babe.” Annabeth berates herself for the way the words are coming out; this is _not_ how she’d rehearsed it, but god, Piper genuinely doesn’t even see the shadow of herself she’s become and it’s fucking killing her.

 

“What?” The word comes out in a gasp, and Jason’s hand holds hers more firmly, as if attempting to remind her it’s all out of love.

 

“Pipes, when was the last time you ate a real meal?”

 

She flinches at the accusation, then straightens, glaring at the boy she’s in love with. “You all watched me eat Percy’s vieja ropa just the other day.”

 

Jason knows she’s sick, knows she’s just being defensive, but anger wells up in him at how little regard she’s showing for her life—the life he prizes above pretty much all others. “Okay, let me rephrase. When was the last time you ate a meal and didn’t immediately go and purge in the bathroom?”

 

Her eyes begin to well with tears, now unable to meet his. “I just…haven’t been as hungry, lately. That’s all.”

 

Annabeth starts to contradict her, but Leo beats her to the punch. “Honey, you’ve been drinking your coffee black.”

 

“So?”

 

“So, you dump Splenda packets in like it’s your job—you hate the taste, you’re doing anything you can to avoid calories.”

 

“Plenty of people decide to cut down every now and then!” Her voice has risen two octaves, and it breaks Annabeth’s heart to see the fear in her face at this confrontation—the betrayal she clearly feels. “I’m _fine_ , and you three are being ridiculous and what I eat is none of your business. I—”

 

“You’re freezing, Piper.” The other girl locks gazes with her at last, and she bites her lip, but continues. “Your body can’t even keep your circulation up anymore, your heart just isn’t strong enough—it’s growing lanugo like babies have because it’s so worried about keeping you warm, keeping any meat on your bones even though you’ve pushed it into starvation mode. You can’t keep your eyes open, you’re ready to fall over, eating spices and citrus hurts because your purging every time we eat together is damaging your esophagus—”

 

“You—you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Annabeth’s voice is hollow. “Yeah? When was the last time you had a period, Piper?”

 

She can’t deny it, and the dam breaks (as does her eye contact). “N—November.”

 

Leo and Jason can’t help but gasp, but unfortunately, Annabeth isn’t surprised.

 

“Your body is literally shutting down processes because it can barely keep you alive. Having a baby isn’t even an _option_ because it has so little energy just to keep you breathing. Piper, you’re _really_ sick.”

 

This time she doesn’t offer an argument, but dabs and the tears leaking down her face. “I—I really don’t think it’s that bad.”

 

“Diagnosis of anorexia begins at 15% body weight loss, Piper—you passed that a while ago,” Leo whispers, and it’s this, him using her real name and citing statistics because _even Leo looked into diagnostic criteria because of how sick her friends think she is_ that cinches it.

 

“But I’m not—I’m not even thin! I’m bigger than all our friends.”

 

Annabeth’s eyes widen, and Leo’s jaw drops, but Jason expected this, and pulls out his phone.

 

“Pipes, I’m gonna show you some pictures with the heads cut off, and I want you to point to which one you think is you, okay?”

 

He’d altered the photos, changed the colors of shirts so she wouldn’t remember which were hers, cropped the frames where any hair or logo was a giveaway. He has her swipe through ten different pictures with two of more female bodies (shots he’d recently started amassing whenever she was out with Annabeth, or Reyna, or Thalia—even at work).

 

Each time, she picks whichever figure appears the largest, genuinely believing it’s her. After she’s gone through them all, Jason goes into a different album and shows her the unedited photos.

 

(She’d picked wrong every time.)

 

Her brain can’t compute, can’t juxtapose the body she lives in that seems so imperfect, so forever bloated and awkward, with the slight girl in the pictures who grows more skeleton like with each image.

 

“Oh.”

 

The word is quiet—not wholly convinced, and she doesn’t move to react at all when Jason slowly wraps his arms around her. But it’s a _start_. “We love you, Piper. We’re here because we want to be with you every step along the way to getting better.”

 

And again, she doesn’t respond, doesn’t acknowledge them further except to close her eyes and let him pull her forehead into his chest, Annabeth and Leo’s hands lightly circling on her back.

 

(She’ll be sick for a while yet, and none of them doubts that they’ll have to argue with her further, but for the first time in months, there’s a real and tangible hope that they won’t watch her starve herself to death.)

 

(It’s really as much as Annabeth could ask for.)

 

\

\

\

 

She wakes before him; she usually does, her body primed for no sleep given that she lives with a baby. Percy’s started staying over one or two nights a week, recently, and while there are still nights she comes to terrified at the feel of skin on hers, most of the time she feels more safe than ever, knowing he’s there with her.

 

She doesn’t have to work till two, so she lets herself stay in bed while Nik snores away.

 

(He’s been sleeping through the night more than half the time the last few weeks, thank _god_. Finally.)

 

Percy, snores, too—the her two loves like out-of-step chainsaws in the night, but their familiar breathing helps her fall asleep at this point. His arm is thrown haphazardly over her waist, though his head is turned towards the wall, and she basks in the heat of his body, in the knowing that of all the places in the world this glorious man could be (who she’s seen swim, now, by the way—there’s no way he’s human), he chooses to share a life with her.

 

And even if something goes wrong, if he were to decide to leave her tomorrow, she’d get to live the rest of her life knowing she had this happiness for a time—this boy that’s the second best thing to ever happen to her.

 

“Think any louder and you’ll wake the baby,” he mumbles into the pillow, referencing the first.

 

“You’re not even looking at me, how’d you know I was awake?” she asks curiously.

 

“Mmmm.” He doesn’t elaborate, and she pokes his side incessantly until he turns to face her, pulling her tighter. “You breathe differently when you’re asleep. The cadence of it, I mean,” he explains without opening his eyes, inches from her face.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” He looks up at her then, and if he’s that aware of her breathing patterns he must’ve noticed how they tend to stop when he does that.

 

(He smirks.)

 

“Morning, Wise Girl.”

 

She confesses, “This is my favorite kind of morning.”

 

“Yeah?” He echoes, and a breezy laugh escapes her.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Let’s have them till we die then,” he says decisively, snuggling closer and pulling the quilt to their chins.

 

“Sounds good to me.”

 

She might be able to fall back asleep, really, comfortable and content as she is, and she feels them both beginning to drift off in their happy little bubble.

 

Of course, this is when Nik comes to, demanding attention.

 

She brings him back to cuddle with them, feeding him before placing him in the middle of them, locking eyes with Percy over the tiny body between them, both responding enthusiastically to each syllable of limited sounds he gets out.

 

And there’s a lot of stressful things in her life right now—from Piper’s fragile health to a raise in the rent next month, the nightmares that consume her sleep, the looming threat that her monster or Percy’s might pop up.

 

(But somehow, tucked in with her two favorite people on the planet, none of that matters. All of her worries seem very, very far away.)


	13. fighting dragons with you

 

  
  


Some days were good.

 

Since Annabeth had opened up to Percy about her life pre-Nik, the good days seemed to be more frequent, and knowing someone knew everything about her and still loved her absolutely made her feel lighter. 

 

But the good days were limited.

 

(Today was not one of them.)

 

Percy had slept over, and she’d come to panting and crying when the sun had yet to rise. He’d stirred beside her, reaching to soothe her and remind her that her nightmares were only just that, but the feel of skin on hers made her flinch, and hurry to sit across the apartment from him (near the trash can, overcome with nausea and frustration and wanting to have a normal morning with her goddamn boyfriend for god’s sake).

 

Nik woke up less than twenty minutes later, cranky and impossible to calm, and while Percy offered to try so she could go back to sleep she refused, unable to withstand the thought of further nightmares--all the while hating herself for feeling too overcome with darkness to care for her son properly, trying but feeling as though she was moving through sand.

 

“Can I--is there anything I can do?” Percy’s voice was sad, but full of understanding. She shook her head without speaking in reply. “Do you want me to leave?” Another silent head shake. “Stay but keep a little distance?” A slow nod. “Okay. I love you, baby. Tell me if there’s anything you need.”

 

He made his way to the kitchen, taking just long enough to put sliced banana on toast and place it near her with a water, before stepping away. He seats himself back on the futon, pulling his laptop to him and attempting to do homework (though truly most of his time was spent watching Annabeth to see if her condition would improve, to make sure Nik was okay, to hope for the day’s rocky start to have been merely a fluke).

 

Eventually, he had to leave for work, kissing Nik where he sat amongst pillows and toys, whispering a farewell to her and locking the door behind him (with the key she’d given him two weeks before, with shaky hands and a nervous smile he couldn’t help but press a kiss to).

 

The day passes, and Annabeth sits in a daze. Occasionally, she starts crying for no particular reason, jolted out of staring into nothingness by her own sobs.

 

The heaviness consumes her, and she doesn’t know how the hours slip away with her doing nothing but lying down, getting up only to feed her son, trying to rally the energy to play with him but knowing she’s not doing enough, knowing she needs to break through this for his sake and hating herself further when she can’t.

 

Everything feels hopeless, today. Yesterday was fine, and the day before, and so on, but here she is, feeling more broken and empty than ever.

 

She doesn’t kid herself--she knows she’s not completely okay--but lately, things have seemed somewhat better.  _ She’d _ seemed better. She wouldn’t say she’d been thinking she wasn’t depressed anymore, but--well, she hadn’t felt like she was, at least. After all these years, she thought she might be on the road to recovery. Free at last.

 

She should’ve known better.

 

This is how her mental illness works, the parasite inside her; weeks ago, she had it together enough to stage an intervention for Piper, and now she can’t lift herself from the floor. Can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel.

 

And she tries the strategies she’s learned--reminding herself of the people who love her, of the clear evidence of them caring; that she has a son, and a doting boyfriend, a family of friends she loves more than words, a job she’s good at, and a strong GPA at a reputable institution.

 

But the words she tells herself don’t matter. Her brain won’t believe any of them, despite the rational evidence standing tall in their defense; life itself seems pointless.

 

She knows it’s her brain chemistry, knows given the environmental stressors she’s been exposed to it’s no fucking wonder she’s a mess of imbalances and wonky brain activity. But she only knows weaker knowing Percy, and Piper, and Thalia, and Luke, and hell, probably Nico and Leo too--they all have shitty pasts, too, scars and nightmares and experiences anyone would wish away, and yet they’re strong enough to not fall apart. Strong enough to not let their demons win, even as she lets them consume her.

 

They deserve better. Nik--Nik deserves so much better, so much more than she’s giving, so much more than she will ever be able to give. Percy, too--he deserved more than not knowing whether he’d be able to kiss his girlfriend good morning or if the action would make her scream, and really, what 21 year old guy wanted to be with someone who couldn’t handle sex? Who hadn’t even broached the topic despite two months of dating seriously, preceded by even longer of being best friends, together every moment they could? Thalia, and Luke--they finally had their shit together, were happy and stable, and she came stumbling back into their lives, the incapable little kid who got them caught still making their lives more complicated; Piper, gorgeous and worldly and capable, working beside her in the diner when she could’ve probably secured a modeling gig by this point if she didn’t feel obligated to stay at the diner with her. Nico, Jason, Leo--people she wasn’t even close to but knew she’d managed to inconvenience.

 

Did any of them really like her? Would they be better off without her in their lives--if she just kept to herself, and stopped intruding in their lives?

 

She spiraled and spiraled, her chest growing heavier and heavier, thoughts more and more hopeless as the hours pass, and none of the facts and figures about her life can convince her mind anything is okay.

 

/

 

Percy returns seven hours later to a snoozing baby and girlfriend curled up together. Gently, he slips Nik from Annabeth’s arms, and her eyes fly open immediately, but calm when they see him moving the kid to his playpen. 

 

“Hi,” she greets him quietly, rising to a sitting position. He gently sits a few feet from her, observing her carefully, knees tucked into her chest and not meeting his eyes.

 

“Feeling better?”

 

“Not really,” she admits quietly. “I’m sorry. I want--I hate--feeling like this. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I know you have a lot to do.”

 

“Nothing I have to do is more important than making sure you’re okay,” he says firmly, then hesitates. “Unless you need space. If you want me to leave, I can.”

 

“I just...my head is dark right now. I don’t want to make you be around that.”

 

“I want to be wherever you are. No conditions or exceptions. Can I...are you okay for physical contact right now?”

 

Annabeth bites her lip, but nods, scooting closer to him, then pressing her face into his chest. His arms wrap around her solidly, and he feels to coil in his chest that’s been cranking tighter and tighter all day relax at long last.

 

“Hey,” he says into her hair.

 

“Hey.”

 

“I love you.”

 

“Yeah?”  She sounds unsure, and he wants to scream at the thought of her still not feeling worthy of love, of her not being able to believe someone could love her, and it makes him want to kill her shit excuse for a stepmother and the bastard who hurt her for so many years whose name she can’t bring herself to say. 

 

“Yeah, wise girl. More than I knew was possible outside of my mom. You and Nik both.”

 

She hums without speaking further, but eventually moves on of the palms curled into her to his chest, gently tracing invisible shapes. Tension slowly drifts out of her body, and he sighs in relief at the start of this wave’s end.

 

It won’t be the last, he knows; his own bad days are just around the corner, too. They’ll never be fully healed, most likely. But that’s okay. As long as after the bad day ends they can come back to each other, he can handle it--this life that seems like too much sometimes.

 

“How was work?” she asks eventually, and he presses a kiss to her curls. 

 

“It was okay. A couple guys on the time came in, which was good, but there was this group of douchebags...anyway, I’m glad to be home.”

 

Her heart warms at the thought that he’s referring to her, to this complicated, imperfect, beautiful thing they have as home, however pained each of them may be.

 

“Have you eaten anything since I left?” He knows the answer already, knows the thought probably hadn’t even crossed her mind despite her giving his feedings right on time. 

 

“No. Damn. I need...I need to work on that.”

 

He nods, but doesn’t push. “I brought you home some stuff from work--we were pretty busy so the kitchen cooked us all up something to take home. It’s in the fridge whenever you want it.”

 

“I love you,” she mumbles into his shirt, and he just squeezes her lightly in return.

 

“Us against the world. And sometimes ourselves. Brains are jerks.”

 

“The biggest jerks,” she agrees. 

 

And maybe, hopefully,  tomorrow will be a good day, and today will feel like a distant memory.

 

(But maybe it won’t. They’ll work through it all the same, and hope for the same the next night.)

 

(Such is life.)

 

/

\

/

 

“Are you  _ serious _ ?!”

 

Annabeth could hear Percy’s raised voice from outside the apartment, and she gave NIk an eye roll before letting herself in to where her boyfriend stood, looking livid, in front of an amused Sally, who held a glass of wine in hand. He’d been wheedling for her to come visit much more often since the expiration of her protective order, but for once he looked less than thrilled whilst conversing with his greatest role model.

 

“Percy, honey, this may come as a surprise to you, but I  _ am _ , in fact, a grown woman.”

 

“Well I know that, but--but--who is this tool, anyway? How did you meet him? How do we know he’s not an axe murderer?”

 

“What did I miss?” Annabeth asked, sliding beside Nico where he sat on the floor, one of the few times she’d seen him while the sun was up.

 

“Sally has a boyfriend,” Thalia informed her, leaning around Nico with an entertained expression. “Percy’s not taking it well.

 

“Apparently, she’s been seeing him for four months,” Jason leaned in to contribute, and Annabeth could barely hold in laughter at how captivated the group was with the soap opera before them.

 

“Well, actually, Paul--”

 

“Paul? He sounds like a bad guy already. The Paul guy in the Bible used to be a murderer, the llama in the llamas with hats video--it’s a sign!”

 

“Percy--”

 

The door opened, and Piper skipped in, joining the group on the floor. “What are we watching?”

 

“Protective Percy is having a meltdown,” Leo stage-whispers, and the man in question swivels to glare at him.

 

“I am  _ not _ ! I’m just saying, clearly we know nothing about this man and until we’ve conducted a thorough background check and I’ve had a talk with him and at least three references--”

 

“Perseus!” Sally’s yell immediately silences the room, and despite how formidable Percy has looked while full of rage and overbearing worry, he suddenly stands wide eyed and scared. “It’s Paul as in Paul Blofis.”

 

Percy’s face rapidly fades from bright red to chalk pale, and he makes a choking sound. “My-my high school english teacher? You’re dating Mr. Blofis?!” His pitch flies so high that his voice breaks on the last word. 

 

“Oh my god, this is like watching  _ The Princess Diaries _ ,” Leo whispers, biting into a half eaten baguette. “I wish she’d warned us so we could record his reaction.”

 

“Yes, Percy. We bumped into each other at the creative writing class I’ve been taking at the community center, and we decided to meet for coffee and work together, and...well, honey, I haven’t been this happy in a long time.”

 

He scowls, crossing his arms. “Mr. Blofis is kind of the best,” he mutters reluctantly. “Does he...does he know? The circumstances, and about Gabe?”

 

A nod from Sally. “Yes, honey. I thought it only fair that he be aware, especially if he could potentially be in danger. He’s a good man, didn’t faze him in the slightest.”

 

“Fine. Sorry I overreacted a little bit.”

 

“A little bit?!” Leo scoffs, yelping as Nico sends an elbow towards his ribs.

 

“Who knew I was dating such a drama queen,” Annabeth teases, standing to go greet him properly in a hug, allowing Percy to lift Nik from her grip with his free arm. The baby gurgled happily at the sight of him, and Annabeth stepped around to allow Percy his baby talk while she reaches to embrace Sally.

 

“I always said he had the theater held potential for him,” Sally grins conspiratorially. “Annabeth, sweetheart, why don’t you let me take the little one off your hands tonight and you and Percy can go out on a real date?”

 

“Money’s a little tight right now,” Percy begins, but Annabeth waves him off.

 

“I’ve got this one--honestly, Sally, if you’re sure, that would be wonderful. I would feel guilty but I get the feeling we’re the ones doing you a favor,” she accuses, the older woman’s grin only widening further.

 

“Guilty as charged. I want uninterrupted time with my almost-grandbaby and I don’t trust you heathens not to steal him out of my hands when you’re around.”

 

Percy and Annabeth both blush at the implications, their friends laughing in the background.

 

They still haven’t discussed it--what he comes closer and closer to being for Nik every day.

 

(What, at this point, he would still try to be if under some bizarre circumstances he and Annabeth didn’t work out.)

 

But they know. They’re melding into a little family--dysfunctional, but full of love and care that time and situation won’t be able to break.

 

(this--this is endgame.)

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: hi all, so sorry for the delay!! Thank you so much everyone who’s left any thoughts since I last updated--I haven’t really had the time or been in the mental state to respond, but know that I saw them and I appreciate you so, so much; without your words I honestly probably would’ve already given up on this fic. I hope everyone is doing well! I’ll try to update again soon.


	14. still turning out

Summer came, and Annabeth was not even half as stressed as she had been.

 

Her scholarship didn’t require that she take summer classes, and while in the future she might try to knock out some requirements, in the meantime there was nothing better than spending all of her time outside of work completely devoted to Nik.

 

She’d started taking him to a Mommy and Me group on Thursday mornings--and while she loved her friends more than anything, it was  _ so _ nice to spend time with other parents; others who understood what it was to wake in the middle of the night and hold your hand before your child’s face to make sure they were breathing.

 

(Five times a night.)

 

Some days, she would look at Nik and burst into tears at how big he seemed, how quickly he was growing up. He now babbled much more than he used to, the beginnings of his language forming, he loved seeing dogs at the park, and he absolutely adored the beach.

 

(As Percy would remind anyone who would listen.)

 

And while money was tight, the apartment was more bare than she would like, and the threat of Helen someday finding her still hung over her head, she was...happier than she could ever remember being.

 

Something would go wrong soon, she was sure--regression to the mean, and all that. But until then, she might as well enjoy life surrounded by family.

 

“Oh my word, Annabeth!! I can’t believe you didn’t tell us!”

 

She grins at the shock on Ampara’s face as the older mother stares at NIk, who had just sat up--completely unaided. “I thought it might be more exciting for you to witness his new trick firsthand. He just did it for the first time on Monday--I swear, I cried for at least an hour.”

 

“That’s one of the things I always thought would be less emotional after the first kid, but Isa is number four and I already know when she does I’ll bawl just as hard as I did when Valentina did,” she confides, referencing her firstborn wistfully. “Being a mother...it’s unlike any other experience.”   
  


“That it is,” Annabeth agrees with a small smile. “We’re so lucky we got it on camera.” She pulls out her phone to show Ampara her new background: Nik, looking extremely pleased with himself, sitting next to a shocked Annabeth, the beginnings of tears running down the tops of her cheeks.

 

“Your young man took the picture?” Ampara’s voice is knowing, and Annabeth can’t look her in the eyes, instead focusing her attention on her son, where he sits hitting light up buttons on a musical toy gleefully.

 

“He did. He...I think he loves Nik almost as much as I do. It’s incredible. I’m so lucky to have found him, that he wants to be a part of...of this. With us.”

 

“Till little Nikolas is grown up and then it’s two against one and they out-vote you for what to watch on tv,” she teases the blonde. “At least until you and Percy have another one or two--maybe then you’ll get a girl to back you up.”

 

Annabeth’s jaw drops at the insinuation, stuttering and feeling everything from her ears to her collarbone flush. “I don’t--we haven’t discussed--I don’t even know if--” she cuts off abruptly, face still flaming, at the amusement coloring the faces of all the mothers (and one father--a single dad who lived near her) around her.

 

“I get not wanting to jinx it,” Desiree confides across the circle from her. “But honey, barring a nuclear apocalypse or something equally crazy, that boy is not going anywhere.”

 

But something equally crazy could mean a lot of things. And while Annabeth liked to think she and Percy had been through enough in their own lives to not let circumstances change their feelings, that they’d been through enough shit that anything that could happen wouldn’t rattle their relationship…that wasn’t how life worked.

 

(Especially not for them.)

 

And with Gabe on the streets and no renewed protective order, with Helen and  _ him _ always potentially on her tail, who knew what could happen in their lives?

 

Still...they would try. And while she occasionally freaked out, doubted that anyone could love her or want to be with her forever, rationally she knew that nothing short of her, Sally, or Nik’s safety being jeopardized could take Percy away from her--or her away from him.

 

And after what they’d been through, what they would always be dealing with internally, they deserved this--deserved a happily ever after where their relationship was concerned, if nothing else.

 

She’d fight the gods themselves for it.

  
  


/

 

Summer came, and it was...hard, for Piper.

 

She was trying. Eating meals with friends at least twice a day, running less calorie expenditure than she was intaking, not letting herself look in the mirror the days she knew doing so would send her backsliding. Letting herself have food instead of caffeine as an appetite suppressant, stopping herself from caving to the urge to purge every meal she ate--letting her esophagus start to heal for the first time in longer than she could really remember.

 

She was making progress--she was doing okay. Really.

 

Until they planned a beach day.

 

Her eyes start to well with tears as she tugs the fabric onto her skin, and it fits more tightly than it ever has. 

 

It’s a good sign--a sign that she’s getting better, getting more healthy; a sign that the work she’s been doing is working, that the damage her sickness has done to her body isn’t permanent.

 

(Spoiler: it doesn’t  _ feel _ like a good sign.)

 

She  _ knows _ her perception of herself is distorted, knows she doesn’t look awful as her brain tries to convince her she does, knows it’s not a crime for her bones to not jut out, for every pair of jeans to be two sizes too loose. 

 

But knowing doesn’t mean anything when her own mind is working against her. As much as she tells herself to ignore that voice-- the one that berates her every time she eats, that reminds her she’s nothing if she’s not physical perfection, the voice she’s never good enough for--it still feels like it’s telling the truth.

 

Hell, if her own father didn’t think she was good enough, how could anyone else?

 

She’s mentally running through their plans for the rest of the day, with her knees tucked into her chest on the couch, bringing all of her excuses and ways to get out of eating back to the forefront of her mind, bracing herself to lie through her teeth to the friends who want nothing more than to help her, to support her through her recovery, when a first raps lightly on the door, and Annabeth steps inside, smiling grimly.

 

“What-what are you doing here?” she stammers out.

 

“I thought I might find you like this.”

 

“I don’t know what you mean…” she starts, but Annabeth levels her with unimpressed raised eyebrows.

 

“Seeing yourself in a swimsuit is a painful for most girls, let alone one so early in recovery. I figured today would be shit for you. That whatever you were seeing in yourself might be enough to make you relapse, make you believe you’re truly better off hurting yourself like this.”

 

Piper sucks a breath between her teeth, and grows defensive. “I just think that maybe we were a little hasty to assume things were so bad. It’s only been a couple months, and I clearly have weight to spare.”

 

Emotion ripples across Annabeth’s face--frustration, pain, hopelessness, anger. “No you don’t, Piper. That’s your  _ eating disorder _ talking. And I’m sure it sounds believable--hell, you grew up in Hollywood, so I can’t imagine what you’ve learned is an appropriate weight, but I promise you that you are still in no way okay. You’re finally coming back to life, but babe, we have a long way to go.”

 

“There’s no  _ we _ , Annabeth; there’s me, a disaster who some days can’t even stand up because I’ve been fucking starving myself for so long but I still don’t think I’m good enough, and there’s nothing you can do! I’m alone in this.”   
  
“Bullshit. I might not be able to argue with your brain, and the facts I give you might not be enough to heal you, but I will be  _ right _ here, supporting you and staying by your side no matter how long it takes. I’ll hold your hand when you’re trying to convince yourself not to run to the bathroom after dinner, and a few months from now when you get your period for the first time in forever and it makes you cry because you associate it with imperfection I’ll be with you, and one day when you look in the mirror and it’s a different person looking back, and you don’t know how to handle it even though you know that woman is healthy, I’ll be with you then too. We’re in this together because that’s what friendship is.”

 

As she’s been talking, she’s gravitated towards the brunette, and she now plants herself beside her on the couch, putting her arms around her. Piper returns the gesture, muttering, “I’m still pissed at you.”

 

“Good. that means what I said made you feel something. You still have fight left in you. Be mad as long as you want,” Annabeth tells her, receiving a snort in return. “You know, you might not like the way you’re starting to fill out that bikini, but I think Jason will.”

 

“Annabeth!” she shrieks, reaching for a pillow to whack the giggling blonde with. Still smiling, she splays herself across her friend with a sigh. “I’m really glad you’re here,” she admits quietly.

 

“Nowhere else I would possibly be,” Annabeth promises.

 

(And Piper knows that’s a bit of a lie, knows Annabeth will  _ always _ wish she’s with Nik when her son isn’t in her arms, but figures she might be a pretty close second.)

 

And god, she doesn’t know who she would become if she didn’t have this person, this friendship, this family (which she knows probably discussed who would be the one to come to her, because they  _ care, _ and they love her so much that they’ll all probably check in at some point throughout the day).

 

(Even in these dark moments when the voice within her hates them for it, she loves them more than anything.)

 

/

\

 

“Now, your mom probably wouldn’t approve of this, so we’ll call this guy secret one of many, okay little man?” 

 

Nik smiles back up at him, and says something nonsensical, which Percy takes as a yes before carrying him into the animal shelter. 

 

“Hi, how are you today, sir?” The woman at the counter asks, and Percy responds in kind.

 

“Is it possible for us to play with one of the dogs? His mom would kill me if I tried to adopt one, but I figure he’d have some fun playing with them, and they can use the love, right?”

 

“They certainly can--you and your son are more than welcome to play with one of them. I’ll try to find one with a little less energy this time, so he doesn’t get too overwhelmed, but if you two decide to come back again we can pair you with someone more outgoing, okay?”

 

Percy nods, trying not to blush at the assumption that Nik is his son. It’s not the first time it’s happened, not by a long shot, and he doesn’t mind at all--Nik is the most perfect kid. Anyone would be lucky to call him theirs.

 

(But he doesn’t want Annabeth to assume that’s what he thinks, when they haven’t had a conversation about it--they haven’t really had to have that conversation before, because the two of them are almost always on the same page, and now he has no idea how to bring the topic up without coming off as presumptuous.)

 

“Alrighty, buddy, if we’re lucky, I’ll be able to talk your mom into letting us get one of these of our own by next Christmas,” he informs the baby, seating him on his lap just as the worker allows an older mutt out of her kennel. “Here, girl,” he whistles softly, watching Nik’s face carefully as th animal approaches; but he doesn’t seem scared, only curious, and he lets out a giggle when she licks his tiny hand. 

 

“You’re such a sweet girl, aren’t you? How have you not been adopted yet?” he almost croons at the dog, cuddled up to them and occasionally nuzzling a joyous Nik. “Okay, maybe I can convince Nico and Leo to help me take you for walks when I’m at work--the pet fee for the building really isn’t  _ too _ bad…” He trails off, lost in thoughts of himself curled up with Annabeth while Nik plays with the dog--whose kennel claims to be named Mrs. O’Leary--on the rug before them.  _ I want that life _ . Almost as if she hears him thinking about her, his phone lights up with his girlfriend’s name, and he quickly presses it to his ear. “Hey, baby, how’s work?”

 

“Really good, actually,” she says, sounding surprised. “What are you two up to?”

 

“Oh, you know, not much, just going for a walk, and--” 

 

Mrs. O’Leary chooses this moment to let out a bark, too close to the phone for him to play it off as a dog across the street, and Annabeth’s voice grows suspicious. “Percy, was that a dog?”

 

“Busted,” he whispers to Nik, whose eyes are not fluttering closed. “Er, we may or may not be at the pet shelter.”

 

“Percy,” she groans, and he can almost see her rubbing her temples in his mind. “What if he’d been allergic? Or the dog had leapt on him? The plates of bone on his head still haven’t fully formed, and he’s so vulnerable to illness, and--”

 

“The dog’s name is Mrs. O’Leary, and I promise she’s super sweet and hasn’t shown any inclination of leaping on him,” he swears earnestly. “I really think it’s good for him to interact with animals early on, and to teach him not to be afraid of them. Besides, in some cases, exposing kids to things early on helps them not develop an aversion--it’s like, a non-painful vaccine! For dogs!”

 

“I don’t personally know enough about the science to refute that statement, but I’m almost positive that’s not how it works.”

 

“Annabeth,” he pleads. “This is a good thing. And Mrs. O’Leary is just so gentle and adorable and I was thinking, I mean, my birthday is only a month away…”

 

“Yeah, after my birthday, in case you’d forgotten,” she teases. “I don’t know Percy--I mean, do you think we have the time to really care for a pet?”

 

“Mrs. O’Leary is low maintenance, I can already tell!”

 

She sighs. “I don’t know, babe. I know you want this, but the fee could be a little hefty, and the cost of a dog on top of it...do you think it’s a good idea?” The question isn’t rhetorical, or condescending like it would be coming from someone else; she genuinely wants to hear if he thinks this is worth the effort. Will genuinely consider it if he does--and that alone warms him.

 

“I really do. She’s short-haired, so less of a mess, and honestly wise girl I think you would sleep better with an in-home security system. And Nik loves her, I swear! I’m not just saying that.”

 

It’s funny, because though they haven’t moved in together, and this dog is his idea and would predominantly be his, they both know Mrs. O’Leary would live in Annabeth’s studio. 

 

(As Percy practically does, with the exception of cooking for them plus his roommates for at least one meal a day.)

 

“Listen, I understand why you’re apprehensive, and I know this is a lot to ask, but I promise I wouldn’t even be suggesting it if I didn’t think it would be good for all three of us. I’m gonna go ahead and send you a picture of her with Nik, and then you have final say, okay? Whatever you decide goes, and I won’t argue, or bring up the idea of a pet for at least six months.”

 

After they hang up, he snaps a photo of the two, Mrs. O’Leary resting her head on Nik’s stomach as he sleeps peacefully, as she has been almost since Percy got the call. He can almost  _ feel _ how happy his heart is (and yes, Annabeth would roll her eyes at him for attributing feelings to the organ that only deals with blood conduction, but that’s really not important right now), and he can’t control the smile lighting up his face as he sends the picture with a question mark, hoping she’ll say yes but knowing logic will probably win out.

 

Things don’t always go the way he expects--or the way he hopes. He receives her reply, and ends up getting home far later than he planned.

 

(After all, it takes almost an hour to fill out Mrs. O’Leary’s adoption paperwork.)

  
  



	15. falling to pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello lovely humans! so sorry for the wait, i was focusing on nano for most of november (and I won for the first time ever, holy shit y'all, im freaking)-i was actually adapting and adding a ton to this story and making it my own, but i'm back now! thank you for your patience, and good luck going into the holidays and exams (kick finals szn's ass, fam!)
> 
> things are finally HAPPENING so get ready for shit to get real. let me know what you think!

By the time he gets to leave work, Percy is exhausted and in an objectively shitty mood, and wants nothing more than to be home with Annabeth and Nik. His back hurts from hours spent on his feet, and the tips he pulled tonight won't cover half of what he needs them to, what with the additional legal fees and security costs he's had to shell out recently.

He lets himself into the apartment, ready to take the fastest shower the world has ever seen and collapse on the futon, but pauses at the sight that greets him: Annabeth semi-reclined, as though she'd just meant to sit down for a moment before falling into the slack-jawed sleep she's currently in, Nik snuggled into her, their cheeks pressed together as they breathe deeply in tandem.

The sight warms his heart. These two people who have become nearly his whole world, laying together so untouched and wholly in their own world...it's strange, to suddenly have these feelings and relationships that had never been a thought in his mind, that would've sounded ridiculous to him a year ago. The idea that a sleeping baby's smile would be the highlight of his week?

(Would eradicate every moment of frustration from a shitty day? Would become his goal to procure?)

(No one could've seen it coming.)

He gets a shower quickly, out in a jiff and with eyes struggling to stay open. He walks to the futon, intending to relocate Nik to his playpen and pull the futon itself out into bed form to get Annabeth into a more comfortable position, but by the time he approaches Nik has started to squirm. One drawn out whine makes it to his ears, the tell-tale sign of waterworks to come, and Percy carefully maneuvers Nik out from his mother's arms, pulling him to his chest to see the little boy looking back at him with lively eyes.

"Hey, little man. You think you'll go back to sleep soon?"

Nik merely blinks in response, then begins to babble a few of his favorite sounds with a smile, and Percy lets out a laugh that's probably louder than it should be.

"Yeah, I figured as much. You're the definition of bright eyed and bushy tailed." He sighs with a yawn, setting Nik on the floor. "You hang out here for just a minute, bud, so I can get Mama more comfortable, and then you and I will find something to do so she can get some rest." Nik had recently had a sleep regression; the doctor said it wasn't at all uncommon, but he'd been up all hours for a few weeks now, and Annabeth had refused to let Percy be the one to stay up with him most nights, despite being the one to work the morning shifts.

He understood why-understood that she didn't want to depend on him, didn't want to leave the raising of her son to another, but...Nik didn't feel like just his girlfriend's kid anymore.

(And he wants this-wants to be someone Nik knows he can rely on, someone who will be there to take care of him always.)

Carefully, he lifts Annabeth and rearranges her so that she's fully laying down, and carefully pulls the futon out, cursing under his breath when it clangs loudly into place, relief flooding through him when she stays asleep, the bags beneath her eyes still attention grabbing.

He returns to snatch up Nik, bringing him inside the kitchen quietly, grabbing both a bottle and a book and settling into a chair for the long haul.

/

A few hours later, Annabeth comes to jerks upright, silently stretching and confused at not having gotten up with Nik at all throughout the night.

(Not that the night is over, really; she's opening today, which means it's currently 4:15, enough time for her to get ready, set out Nik's things at get to work by 5.)

(No hint of sunlight comes through the window, though of course the streets are never silent, despite the hour.)

Even more confusing, Nik isn't beside her, where she _knows_ he was when she fell asleep, and she starts to panic until she hears the cadence of Percy's voice floating out from the kitchenette.

"'I do not like them, Sam I am'," he articulates carefully, and Annabeth walks up behind them in time to see press kisses to a giggling Nik's face, dropping the book to join several others on the table.

"Percy?"

He swivels in his seat, looking up at her with a tired smile. "Morning, baby. I didn't hear you get up."

"I beat my alarm by a few minutes," she confesses, grabbing a banana and joining him at the table. She sets the fruit down, leaning to kiss Nik good morning until he reaches out his arms for her excitedly, and she helplessly picks him up, holding him tightly with closed eyes. Seeing him first thing in the morning...it's the best. _He's_ the best kid ever, she knows it. "Were you...Percy, were you reading to him?"

Percy nods sheepishly, blushing and not meeting her eyes. "I mean, technically I don't know that it counts as reading...most of these I have memorized from when I was a kid. Took them ages to figure out I was dyslexic, till one day I was reciting the next line before I remembered to turn the page." He pauses while Annabeth laughs delightedly. "I don't know, I figured he might get bored if he had to wait for me to sound things out and make my way through at the pace I do in a book I don't know."

"He has to for me sometimes, and he doesn't mind," Annabeth reminds him with an understanding smiles. "That's so sweet of you, though, Percy. You really didn't have to-especially when you're watching him all morning."

"You know I love hanging out with him. Besides, I don't have class today, so he and I can both ruin our sleep schedules and snooze till the afternoon together. I just really thought you could use the rest, wise girl; you've been so stressed lately…"

She internally winces at this, doing her best to maintain a straight face. She's kept the main cause of her inner turmoil from him, not wanting to burden him while he's so worried about Sally and on edge about Gabe, but she knows soon enough she'll have to face the music.

"Well, thank you, baby. I appreciate it." She leans her head on his shoulder with a yawn, wishing she could freeze time and stay in this moment forever; tired, but happy, untouchable to her problems.

(It won't last long.)

/

It's a few hours later, when the morning rush is gone and she's sitting on a metal chair in the back on her break, skimming the pages of a book from the library about parenting during the infant-to-toddler transition, when her phone starts buzzing away in her pocket. Assuming it's Percy, and always half-expecting something to be wrong with Nik and ready to sprint to her car, she accepts the call without a second thought, pressing the phone to her ear immediately. "Hey, everything okay?"

For a moment, there's silence on the other end, before a throat clears, and she's tensing as an unfamiliar male voice speaks. "Hello. I'm calling to speak to Annabeth Chase?"

 _No_. This must be it-the mysterious number with a Virginia area code that's been calling her for weeks, changing lines each time she blocks a new one without listening to the copious quantities of voicemails left behind.

(It has to do with them, she knows it does; there's nothing else in Virginia to do with her. No one else who could _find_ her.)

"This is she," she responds robotically. "May I ask who's calling?"

"You're quite the difficult person to get ahold of, Ms. Chase. My name is Robert Sullivan, I've been hired by your mother."

Annabeth's entire body is live with electricity. "My mother is dead, Mr. Sullivan, as she has been for almost two decades. I'm assuming you're referring to Helen?"

"Ah, yes, I'm sorry, your _step_ -mother, Mrs. Helen Blackshear Chase. I'm afraid your family needs you, Ms. Chase, as they're going through a trying time right now. The elder Ms. Chase has hired me to represent her brother, Mr. Octavian Blackshear, in his upcoming trial; that is to say, I'm his criminal defense attorney."

All of the blood rushes out of Annabeth's face, and for a moment, the world is only her and the phone her fist is clenched around, as her breathing hitches. "His-his attorney?"

"His lawyer, ma'am," he clarifies condescendingly. "Mr. Blackshear has been falsely accused of the most egregious of charges-two blasphemous young women have come forward accusing him of rape in the last few months, and are proceeding with a trial."

"Excuse me just a moment," Annabeth whispers into the phone, dropping it to the counter before lunging to empty the entire contents of her stomach into a nearby trash can.

 _Two young women._ Two others, hurt because of her, because she _left_ , because he had to find new targets-

( _I did this._ )

( _They went through this because of me._ )

Pale and shaking, stomach still churning, she picks the phone back up with a trembling hand. "Mr. Sullivan, I fail to understand what this has to do with me." She's proud of how evenly the words come out-how little she sounds like someone in the beginnings of a nervous breakdown.

"Well, you have to testify, of course-you need to speak as a character witness, to attest to the fact that Mr. Blackshear could never commit that kind of atrocity. You'll come in and talk about the quality of his character, that he's an upstanding citizen, the best uncle-pardon me, step-uncle-you could ever imagine, wouldn't hurt a fly, etc."

 _Wouldn't hurt a fly_. She chokes at the words-has to hold back a sob at the idea of going before a courtroom and defending the bastard who tortured her for years, the backdrop for every nightmare, the reason her own body will never fail to feel like a fucking crime scene.

(Of having his eyes on her, knowing the kind of thoughts that would be running through his head.)

(Of him potentially catching wind of _Nik_.)

"The trial begins in just a couple of weeks now-we've been trying to reach you for a while, Ms. Chase, it's truly made things difficult on our end. Anyways, since the trial is so soon, we'll need you to head here from-where _is_ your area code: Jersey? New York? You'll need to be here within a week, a week and a half at most."

"I-" She can't get the words out, knows if she speaks any further all that will come out is a cry, has to physically press a hand to her mouth to hold back the screams.

"I have to go to a meeting now, Ms. Chase, but we'll talk soon-Helen and Octavian will be thrilled we finally got ahold of you."

Without another word the call clicks to an end, and Annabeth collapses on the floor as her life disintegrates around her.

/

/

Percy's head jerks upward when the door creaks open hours too early, instinctively knowing something is off, but when Annabeth closes it behind her and rushes to lock herself in the bathroom without greeting himself or Nik, he knows things are not okay.

"You wait here, buddy, I'm gonna go see if I can make her feel better," he tells him, setting him in his bouncer and carefully walking to the bathroom door, tapping it lightly with his knuckles. "Baby? What happened?"

She doesn't reply, but he can hear a heart-wrenching sound escape her, mournful and pained.

"Annabeth? Did someone hurt you? Please tell me what happened-what can I do?" he begs.

"I-" she hiccups, clearing her throat before stumbling through the words. "I got a call today. From an attorney. He-my-" she breaks off, devolving into sobs.

"Can you-baby, can you just let me in so I can hold you?"

"You touching me right now might make it worse," she whispers honestly, and he can picture her curled up on the floor on the other side of the thin plank of wood.

"Okay." He swallows heavily, clueless as to how to handle the situation.

Percy hears her suck in a deep breath before attempting to continue. "Nik's-my stepmother's brother." His blood boils, his fists clench-the mention of the man he would happily take the prison time for murdering already has him livid, and he now knows the conversation is only going to get worse. "He did it to to other girls. They came forward-they're taking him to court. It was his attorney that called me."

Annabeth releases a bitter laugh, so hopeless that it fucking kills him. "They expect me to testify as a character witness. To talk about how I couldn't imagine a better uncle-how he's such an upstanding fucking citizen."

"Are you kidding me right now? This actually happened?" Percy demands. Nik begins whimpering in the other room, not happy to be alone, and probably growing scared of the angry voices, and Percy calls out to him. "We'll be right back, buddy! You're okay." Attempting to use a pleasant tone in this moment is one of the most difficult things he's ever done.

On the other side of the door, he can hear Annabeth crying desperately.

"Percy, I...I have no idea what to do. Those girls deserve their justice, and I want them to have it-me testifying on their side could be a game changer. And I owe it to them--it's my fault they went through this, if it weren't for me leaving, him needing to go after someone new, him still being on the streets because I was too scared to speak up...I should do it for them. But I don't know if I can do it. Being in the same room as him...or having to use Nik as evidence? I can't risk him knowing about him. And I-" a shuddering breath escapes her. "I came home today and I came straight in here because I don't think I can look at Nik right now-his eyes, I mean. They're the same. They're his eyes. And I love them on him-I love him more than I could ever love anything in this world, and I will never let the way he was conceived affect anything about the way I love him, but right now I just...I think seeing his eyes will kill me," she confesses, hating herself all the while. "What kind of mother am I? How can I-how can I live with myself if my son grows up thinking I might not love him when I can't look him in the eye sometimes?"

"Annabeth," Percy begins, attempting to calm his temper long enough to soothe her, when really he wants to go slam his fist into a brick wall. "Baby, you are an amazing mother. I know that's hard for you to accept-I know it's something you worry about a lot, but I promise you that Nik is a happy, healthy, safe baby, who could not be in better hands, and he knows it. And I'm so sorry that he has to share genes with that monster...but baby, he's only been here for a matter of months, you know? You've had years of nothing but suffering and violation associated with those eyes, and even though Nik is the best thing on this planet, it makes sense that it would take a while for him to reverse that instinct, the way you associate his eyes. You're not a bad mom for that-you're human, wise girl. You've been through a lot, and you're still healing. And what happened to those girls--it's fucking _awful_ , but it is in no way your fault. You were in a bad situation, and you did what you had to for you and Nik to escape--because you're a damn good mom. You know rationally the only person at fault is that pathetic waste of space. The trial...I don't think there's a right answer there. You have to figure out what's best for you, and what's best for Nik-what you can live with going forward. Hell, I can't imagine trying to decide what to do, baby; you just need to take some time for yourself, to really let yourself think about it."

"You're right," she says in a small voice. "I just don't...it brings back so many bad memories. And this, everything, was part of my life for so long, it changed who I am before I even figured out who I was...and I don't know if I'll ever find her. I never really got the chance to grieve her, to process what I was going through, and it's just crashing down on me right now on top of everything else."

Percy nods, mentally face-palming when he remembers that she can't see him, but he presses a palm to the door anyway. "I'm sorry, baby. I don't think there are any words, anything I can say that could ever help. You deserve so much more. I love you. And Nik loves you, even when you're not having the best day."

She doesn't respond, but then he hears the tell-tale click of the lock being undone, and he quickly opens the door, hesitating before she gives him a shallow nod of permission. He steps forward to wrap her in a hug, lips against her blonde curls. "You're a badass, wise girl. We're gonna make it through this. All three of us."

(She's still not okay. She won't be for a while.)

(But having someone to hold her while she cries, while she attempts to scramble together some semblance of sanity as she goes to lift her son apologetically, while she tries to make the hardest decision she's ever made-it helps.)

(Not enough, but it's more than she's ever had on her team when facing her monster before.)

( _All three of us._ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!


	16. when your world splits down the middle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi all, happy new year!!! hope everyone is doing well.
> 
> also, a dramione one shot AND a ltb update in 24 hours?? who am i? it almost looks like i have my shit together (we all know that's not true)
> 
> anyway, more things are HAPPENING in this chapter, enjoy!! thank you for reading

It’s been three days since the call, and Annabeth has been on edge and in a dark place ever since.

Annabeth drags herself and Nik out of the apartment on her day off; it’s a Wednesday this week, which means Percy, Thalia, Piper, and the rest of her family all have work.

Something tugs at her, though; an antsy need to get out of the apartment, a feeling that there’s somewhere else she should be.

They drive around aimlessly for a while: run a few errands, stop by the bank, hang out at the park for a bit, but something itches at the back of Annabeth’s brain until she finds herself parked outside of the youth center.

The place is mostly deserted, just a couple high school aged kids sprawled on couches watching movies, one middle schooler in the corner listening to music.

She makes her way to Luke’s office, and his eyebrows jump up at the sight of her.

“Annabeth! I didn’t know you were coming. What’s up?” He reaches to take Nik from his carrier, holding him close, and then looks at her— _really_ looks at her. “Is everything okay?”

“Honestly?” she says, voice a raspy whisper. “No.”

Luke immediately closes the door and pulls her to the cushy couch next to his desk, a soothing hand on her shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“I—I’m sorry to just show up here like this, I just—I don’t know what to do, and I know Percy loves me and it’s not his fault but I just feel really alone right now and I don’t know what the right thing to do is and I feel like I’m going to disappoint everyone.” She sucks in a rattling breath, eyes beginning to tear up and body beginning to tremble

“Annabeth, we’re _family_. Being here for you is never a burden. Now tell me what the hell is going on and whose ass I have to kick.”

“He’s going to trial,” she breathes, not bothering to specify who, knowing Luke, of all people, will know. Will _get_ it. “Two others are pressing charges. I got a call from the attorney Helen hired—she wants me to testify as a character witness.”

Luke’s eyes burn with anger and hatred, the knuckles of his free hand white. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“I don’t…” she closes her eyes and shakes her head, swallowing heavily. “I don’t know what to do. I want him locked up—I want him off the streets, not able to hurt any more of us.” _Not able to make another person feel like their body isn’t their own._ “And I feel like I owe it to these girls—I know, I didn’t hurt them and I didn’t do anything wrong, but…if I can help them lock him up, I should. But I also…I so, so don’t want to see him. Don’t want to be near him. Don’t want him to know _anything_ about my existence. And if he finds out about Nik…if he’s not convicted, or he gets a short sentence and then gets out and comes after us, or goes for custody…” she practically convulses at the prospect.

“You’re between a rock and a hard place,” Luke nods.

“I know my testimony would strengthen the case—I have _years_ of diary entries I jammed inside a hole I carved in my mattress. And while I don’t want to use Nik as evidence…a paternity test would be solid proof.” She leans her head against the back of the couch. “But I don’t know if I can bear it. Being in the court room with him—telling strangers everything he did to me…and if they find him not guilty?” her voice rises three octaves. “Helen not caring was one of the most painful things I’ve ever gone through. If the justice system does the same…”

She begins to break down into sobs.

(Luke has to remind himself that his nephew is in his arms, that if he lets lose the brutal _scream_ he wants to unleash the woman beside him is liable to run, to be terrified.)

(He breathes in and out slowly, when the man he used to be itches to jump up and slam his fist through something—itches to hunt down this version of the devil and make him _pay_.)

“Listen. If you want to testify—then you should. We will support you, Thalia and I will testify too—about how you were when we found you, about when you told Thalia then, about going to CPS to try to stop you from having to go back to it. If this is what you want, we will do _anything_ it takes.” He locks eyes with her so she knows he’s serious before continuing. “But honestly, Annabeth? It sounds more like you’re scared to not testify. And more than anything, I need you to understand: it’s _okay_ to not.”

Her eyebrows press together, and she bites her lip uncertainly, so he powers through.

“You don’t owe _anything_ to _anyone_. And yes, your testimony would strengthen the case, but fuck that—it’s _yours_. It’s your life, your trauma, and you don’t have to tell it to anyone— _especially_ if you think it will jeopardize your son’s well-being. But even if Nik weren’t in the picture: what that bastard did to you is no one’s business unless you want it to be. And there is _nothing_ wrong with you not wanting to bring it to court. He tortured you for years, Annabeth, and you survived that, fought your way through it, and there is no shame in not wanting to put yourself back there. You have every right to not testify, and that’s not shameful or any less right. There is nothing wrong with putting yourself and your mental health and your goddamn comfort first, Annabeth, and fuck anyone who says anything different. The _only_ reason you should testify is if you want to.”

“Are you sure?” she whispers, not meeting his eyes.

“I am. And I’m not saying that because I think you shouldn’t testify but…if you do, it shouldn’t be because you don’t feel like you have a choice. Enough choices have been taken away from you. If you decide to testify…that should be all you. Because it’s what’s best for _you_.”

Annabeth slides her head down onto his shoulder. “Love you.”

“Love you too, kid. Family. Always.”

 

/

\

/

 

“You’re lucky to be _alive_ , Mom, staying there isn’t an option anymore!”

Annabeth pales as she approaches Percy’s apartment a few hours later and hears his words through the wood of the door, the fear in his voice palpable. She opens the enters quietly, dropping Nik’s carrier immediately and carrying him across to the tense kitchen, footsteps soft with hopes of not intruding.

“Annabeth!” Sally exclaims, her face lighting up.

(Her eyes remain filled with worry.)

“Hi, Sally, it’s so good to see you.” The older woman pulls her into a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of Nik’s head without hesitation.

“It’s good to see you too, sweetheart—and if Percy gets his way, you’ll be seeing a lot more of me.”

Percy scowls, hackles still raised, but he slides an arm around Annabeth and a bit of the tension seeps out of his body. “Hi, Wise Girl. How was your day?”

“It was…good. I went over to the center and talked to Luke about…everything. I feel a lot better about it.”

“It’s so good that you have him,” Sally simpers, rocking a babbling Nik in her arms. “I always wished I had an older brother—to help me through life, protect me from the world, and all that.”

“Why would it matter, when you don’t want to let anyone actually _do_ anything to protect you!” Percy snaps. He shoots Annabeth an apologetic glance when she jumps at his raised voice, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. “Mom, please, just move in here, you know Leo and Neeks wouldn’t mind—I’m not here most of the time anyway.”

“Honey, I appreciate the offer, and I love that you care so much, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. With you is the first place he would look for me; and besides, I don’t want to stop living my life out of fear. If I do, is it really a life worth living at all?”

“YES!” Percy shouts, looking more upset than Annabeth has ever seen him. “Jesus fucking Christ, Mom, I know the movies make it out like it’s so noble and brave to not let your aggressor change your habits or the way you live your life, but it’s not! It’s not courageous or right or any of that bullshit, it’s just _stupid_! He broke into your apartment, he left death threats at your work place—staying isn’t just reckless, it’s practically suicide! You know he wouldn’t hesitate to if given the chance, and he’s already proven that you’re not safe where you are.”

Annabeth’s eyes widen, and she turns to Sally, too. “Percy’s right, Sally, it’s not worth putting yourself back in that situation. I can get you a job here at Penny’s—the pay might not be what you’re used to, but it’s something.”

“Even so, Percy, he’ll come here first.”

“So stay with me.” Both Jacksons turn to Annabeth in surprise. “Really, it wouldn’t be a bother at all, and it’s a step removed, so we’d probably no if he was close enough to figure out that’s where you’re staying.”

Percy gives her a small smile and squeezes her hand, and Sally looks at her quizzically. “Are you sure, sweetheart? That’s a lot to offer—and I wouldn’t want to put you or Nik in danger.”

Annabeth laughs humorlessly. “Believe me, your monster is the least of my worries where our safety is concerned. We would love to have you.”

“If you’re sure. Thank you, honey. If at any point you’re no longer comfortable with it—”

“Honestly, Mom, save your breath. Once she makes up her mind it’s hopeless,” Percy teases.

Annabeth nods. “It’s true. Here, let me run down and grab the spare key for you—fair warning, both Percy and Piper have their own, so they’re liable to walk in at any time.”

“As long as he’s clothed,” Sally replies, and both Annabeth and Percy flush bright red.

“ _Mom_!”

/

She lets herself into her apartment briskly, walking into the kitchenette without a second glance.

(So her entire body jolts when someone clears their throat from their seat on the futon.)

“You know, Annabeth, I really _do_ wish I could rid myself of you.”

Her heart stops. _No_.

_No no no._

She turns around slowly, unable to breathe at the sight of Helen cocking an eyebrow at her.

 _Here_. Inside her apartment—the one place she’s ever been safe.

“How did you get in here?”

“Oh, the landlord was only too happy to let in a mother surprising her daughter with a visit from out of state,” she smirks, crossing her legs. “That’s how we figured out where you were in the first place—clever of you, leaving so many brochures throughout your room and letting us thing you’d go to an uppity school. A piece of mail came for you, though, and the ruse was up.”

“That’s impossible. I redirected all of my mail, changed my address, opted for email—nothing from the school should’ve come.” She’s surprised she manages to get the words out, really. _Helen. Here._

“Well, apparently someone messed up. And when a stressed mother called to make sure her daughter’s address was updated, the registrar was only too happy that the address they had on file—which they were kind enough to read aloud—was the correct one, so the frantic woman would get off the phone.”

“Ingenious,” Annabeth replies sarcastically. “What do you want, Helen? You hate me so much, why the hell are you here?”

( _You’re free,_ she reminds herself. _She doesn’t control you anymore._ )

(It doesn’t feel like it.)

“Seeing as you spoke with the attorney three days ago, you know exactly what I want, ingrate—you need to come testify for Octavian.”

Revulsion slides through her body at the sound of his name—most of the time, she tries to avoid even thinking it, so this…god, this is her nightmare.

“Why the fuck would I ever testify for him?”

“Because you owe it to me,” Helen hisses, eyes flashing. “You ungrateful bitch, I clothed and fed you for a decade and a half, kept a roof over your head, and you have the audacity—”

“You think I should be grateful?” she demands. “You tormented me, beat me, let your brother –” she presses a hand to her mouth, unable to say the words. “How dare you. How dare you ever say that I owe you anything when you enabled my suffering—when you let me be _used_ from the time I was a _child_.”

“Oh like it was the end of the world,” Helen rolls her eyes, grinding her teeth maliciously. “Besides, honey, I looked around this apartment—I mean, I know you’ve always been a little whore, but really, a child so soon? I’m surprised at you.”

All of the blood rushes out of her body because Nik— _Helen can’t know about Nik_.

Somehow, her stepmother hasn’t put the pieces together—has assumed Nik was conceived after she moved to New York.

(It _needs_ to stay that way.)

“Helen, whatever the case, there is nothing you can do to make me—”

“Hey, babe, everything okay?” Percy’s voice is careful as he enters the apartment, looking around and freezing at the sight of the unfamiliar face, at his girlfriend pale with a clenched jaw. “Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, you were just gone for a while and I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Who is _this_?” Helen purrs. “He’s not baby daddy, is he? You’re awful handsome to be palling around with Bethy, here.”

Annabeth flinches at the nickname, and it’s this, this visceral reaction and the ease with which the woman speaks that make it click for Percy.

“You’re Helen,” he says—not a question.

“Oh, so you’ve heard of me! Wonderful. And you are?”

“Not interested in speaking to you,” he says, tone cold. “You should leave. Now. Before I call the police to escort you out.”

“Young man, that’s no way to speak to a lady,” Helen reprimands him. “Whatever Annabeth has told you, I can assure you is an exaggeration.”

The door opens again, and though she’d thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, it does: Sally walks in with a screeching Nik.

“Sorry, honey, I can’t get him to calm down—I think he just wants Mama,” she tells Annabeth apologetically, handing him over.

Annabeth shushes him quietly, without looking at Helen, focused on Nik—he’s all that matters.

(All that has ever mattered.)

“Ah, is this your bastard?” Helen asks, and Annabeth watches Sally recoil out of the corner of her eye.

“Get the fuck out and never speak a word about him again, you piece of shit excuse for a mother.” Percy’s voice is low, and almost terrifying, but Helen doesn’t react.

 _Just leave, please just leave_ , Annabeth begs in her mind.

“I’m not going anywhere until Annabeth agrees to be a character witness—and I doubt you could find an officer to arrest me. My reputation is pristine.”

(She sees it almost in slow motion, this moment that changes everything.)

(This moment that alters her future irrevocably.)

“Then _I_ will remove you, you bitch,” Percy says, beginning to shout.

Percy is Nik’s favorite person—he’s never heard him upset.

So when he hears the man’s voice raised, he turns his head to look at him in confusion.

(Turns to where Percy stands inches from Helen.)

The movement draws both of their attention to him, wide eyed in Annabeth’s arms. Helen sees him for the first time. Sees his eyes.

(The eyes he inherited from his biological father.)

(Octavian’s eyes.)

“Well, well,” Helen says, lips curving upward, back into her familiar smirk. “Isn’t that interesting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALSO: in the mood to write more feysand/dramione one shots so send me prompts if the fancy strikes you!


	17. and we see what we've become

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO sorry for that last cliffhanger—I know, I’m absolutely evil. I hate myself too.  
> Also, writing is so HARD, y’all. I’ve been avoiding updating bc I had no idea what to do next lol, I did NOT plot enough ahead of time and now each chapter I’m just internally screaming the whole time and trying to figure out what to do. BUT I think I know what the plan is now so the next update should come sooner rather than later!!! Thanks for sticking with the fic this long :)  
> tw: mentions of suicide

Ten blocks away, Nico finally gets the door open, and finds a surprised Piper hunched on her couch, eyes glassy. 

“The door was locked,” she whispers. 

“I noticed,” he says, sitting next to her. “Good thing I know how to pick locks.” 

“It was locked for a reason, Nico. Please leave.” 

“No. You’ve been off all week, and now you’re cancelling plans we’ve looked forward to for a month because you don’t feel well? I don’t buy it. Tell me what’s going on—god knows you haven’t told the rest.” 

“They’re dealing with their own shit right now,” she says defensively, wrapping her arms tighter around her knees. “I really don’t want you here right now, Nico. Can you just give me some space?” 

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong, Piper. I know what it’s like to feel trapped inside your own head, and not want to bother your friends with it. And it’s bullshit. I want to know.” 

She bites her lip nervously, then looks down at her lap. “It’s stupid. I—I shouldn’t be this upset about it, really. It’s a good thing.” When Nico doesn’t say anything, she continues nervously. “You know about—about the intervention from a few months ago? My—that I—” she cuts herself off, looking ashamed. 

“That you starve yourself? Yeah, Pipes,” she jerks at how brashly he says it. “We’re all a mess, Piper. You know I’ve tried to kill myself? Twice?” 

Her eyes widen at the admission. “I had—I mean, I thought you might be depressed, but I didn’t—” 

“Not exactly something I advertise. I like to make jokes about it to cope—Percy and Leo usually find them in poor taste. My point being, whatever it is to do with your eating disorder that’s fucking with your head—I won’t judge. I know how it can be when your brain is pure chaos.” 

Piper watches him for a moment, seeing him so differently—really thinking about every interaction they’ve ever had. 

“I—it’s just—I got my period,” she confesses, voice quiet. “For the first time in…well, a while. And it’s stupid, because logically I know that it’s normal and a sign that I’m getting healthier, but…for so long not having it has felt like I’m doing something _right_. Like something…” 

“Something in your control?” Nico finishes for her, and she nods slowly. “Shitty how your mind can convince you something so bad for you is so good.”

“Yeah. And my immediate reaction is to start trying to come up with ways to not eat this week without Annabeth or Jason or Leo figuring it out; when to leave dirty pans in the sink for them to see, where to get rid of the food, when to show up with crumbs on my mouth…all these plans to convince them. When they’re trying to _help_ me. How can I do that to them without a second thought?”

“Piper, this is all you’ve known for _so_ long now; with everything with your dad, shutting people out and making up excuses…it’s been your defense mechanism since I can’t imagine when. If you told Jason, and Annabeth, and Leo, they would understand, and they wouldn’t assume you’re betraying them or whatever ridiculous thing you’ve convinced yourself this is.” 

“But they might!” she protests. “It would disappoint them so much.” 

“That you’re feeling that way, sure, but that doesn’t mean they’d be disappointed _in you_.” Piper gives him a disbelieving look. “Okay, look, if I told you I sometimes consider attempting again—and I do, that’s not something I’m saying for your benefit—what would you say?” 

“That it makes me so sad that you feel that way, but I love you, and I know it’s not an affront against me that you want to,” she sighs. 

“Exactly. Recovery…well, for a lot of things, in never really ends. You might be stopping yourself from thinking about the calories in every meal for the rest of your life. I might not be able to have any kind of medication in my house forever—you know Percy and Leo have to keep their advil and all locked in a safe? It sucks. And some days really, really suck. But it’ll get better. The bad ones get fewer and farther between.” 

“I hope you’re right,” she says quietly. She leans her head over on his shoulder, and he returns the gesture, resting his own on top of her head. 

(They stay like that for a while, commiserating and just trying to remember that they’re not alone.)

 

/

/

 

_“Testify for Octavian, or I’ll file for custody of your little brat.”_

Helen’s next words, spoken through a predatory smile. Annabeth can’t get them out of her head—has _no idea_ what to do. 

It’s an impossible catch-22 that’s only gotten worse. 

“You know exactly how it will go, darling. I’m an upstanding member of the community, impeccable record, reliable income—you’re barely an adult yourself, with a history of instability; running away from home when you were seven, really? And now, raising a child in this hovel, on a diner salary?” Helen clucks her tongue, and Annabeth can feel all the fight inside her dying out. 

Is it a choice, really? Letting Nik into Helen’s grasp, allowing him to endure what she did, Nik _not being with her_ —it’s unfathomable. 

But to testify that Octavian isn’t capable of assault, after so many years of violation at his hands…to help to put him back on the streets and hurt others the way he hurt her… 

There’s no right answer. Neither option is okay. 

“Leave. Now. Or I call the police on you for trespassing, and that impeccable record goes out the window.” Percy’s tone is darker than she’s ever heard it—she feels herself shrink instinctively, even as he does it for her defense. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m on my way out. Flight to catch after all. Annabeth, I’ll see you at eight a.m. sharp Tuesday morning—our attorney will need to coach you before you take the stand.” 

Helen slinks through the door without further ado, and Annabeth slides down the wall till she hits the ground, holding onto Nik tightly—probably too tightly. He wiggles in her arms, waiting for her to kiss him, speak to him; she knows he’s confused at her silence. 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart, this is all my fault,” Sally apologizes gently, sounding devastated. “I should’ve sensed something was off, walked right back out with Nik.” 

“It’s not your fault Helen and her piece of shit brother belong in Hell, mom,” Percy says with a scowl, ignoring her halfhearted reproachful look. “Fuck. I should’ve started recording audio the second I knew it was her, if we could have evidence of her blackmailing you…” 

Annabeth tunes out as the mother and son go back and forth bemoaning the situation, brainstorming ways for Annabeth to get out of the predicament, but she can’t bring herself to chime in, to tell them both it’s not their fault. 

(Of course it isn’t.) 

(They’ve never done anything but love her—they were the first since Thalia and Luke to do so.)

She’s out of the apartment before she can really register that she’s moving; it’s lucky the weather isn’t too cold, she realizes, as she hadn’t even considered putting a jacket on Nik, or herself. 

Her keys are in her pocket, but she doesn’t want to be in the car right now—doesn’t want to have that kind of power, that kind of potential to destroy other people’s lives if she gets distracted. 

(she already _has_ too much potential to destroy other people’s lives, come Monday morning.) 

She wanders aimlessly, down side streets, her feet rapidly hitting the sidewalk pavement, passerby tending to move at the sight of her—the shattered look in her eyes. 

Her nightmare since the day she found out about Nik’s existence has been this—Octavian knowing. Having to go to court to argue that the monster who ended her first baby’s life before it even began shouldn’t be allowed near her second—near the one she managed to keep from him for so long. 

She was so  _careful_. 

And yet the horror has come to life. 

It begins to rain, of course, because what would her life be if not dramatic?

At first, she continues to walk, but the sheets of icy watr come down harder and harder, so she ducks inside the first café she sees, Nik tucked inside her now-drenched cardigan in hopes that the proximity to her body heat will keep him warm. 

She looks into his wide eyes—his precious, inquisitive eyes. The little face she loves more than anything in the world. 

She hates herself for considering it—hates what her testimony for Octavian might mean for other women. The concept of character witnesses for rapists makes her so fucking angry in general—and now she might serve as one? Might serve as the piece of evidence that stops other women from getting their justice, if there is any in this world? 

Nik begins to babble again, and tears drip down her face. 

She hates the idea of it. Might vomit at the thought of taking the stand and saying the things Helen wants her to. 

(Of seeing Octavian’s other victims and hearing her own voice say there’s no way he could’ve done that to them—that they’re _lying_. Jesus, it hurts viscerally to consider.) 

(But she loves Nik.) 

So she makes two calls.

The first is to Zoe. 

By the time they hang up, she feels completely empty. Hollow. She dials Thalia’s number, and her would-be older sister answers on the first ring.

“Percy called already—tell me where you are and I’ll come pick you up.”

 Annabeth lets out a sob. “Café on 82nd. Don’t tell the others yet.”

 “You’re the only one I care about, kiddo. I’m grabbing the car seat from the guest room and then I’ll be there to get you two, okay?”

The way Thalia does this—knows exactly what she needs, gives it to her without question—it’s  _everything_.

“Thalia?” A pause on both ends of the line. “I need a favor.”

 

/

/

 

Percy was pacing madly when Annabeth came home late that night, having been crazy worried despite the text from Thalia five hours earlier that read _“I’ve got them—will bring them home when she’s feeling better”_.

And that was it. All he had to go on regarding Annabeth and Nik’s well-being, for the whole day. 

He’s starting to think he might go insane when she finally walks in, at almost midnight. 

“Annabeth, thank _god_.” He notes her puffy eyes, messy hair, the imprint of the seam of Nik’s car seat left on his cheek, before pulling them both to him in a desperate hug. 

“Sorry if you were worried,” she says timidly. “I just needed—some time away.”

“That’s—whatever you need,” he reassures her. “Just, after what happened, I—I don’t know. It doesn’t matter—are you feeling better?” 

“A little bit. I—I think I know what I’m going to do.” She closes her eyes in anguish, but lets out a deep breath. “Thank you for still being here.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Percy promises. He starts to say more, but is interrupted by a knock on the door. “What the hell?”

“It’s probably Zoe,” she tells him, looking through the peephole briefly before letting the older woman in. “Thank you for getting this so quickly.”

“Of course—I know the sooner the better. If you have any questions or need any help with it before you go to file, let me know, okay?” Zoe checks, handing her a manila folder.

“I will. Really, thank you—you have no idea how much this means to me.”

“I hope it works out.”

“What—” Percy begins to inquire as to what the hell is going on, but his phone starts to buzz, and he presses it to his ear with confusion, the caller not in his contacts but a local area code. “Hello?”

 _“Percy Jackson?”_ asks an unfamiliar but gentle male voice.

“This is he. Can I ask who’s calling?”

_“My name is Ahmed, sir, I work in registration at Bellevue Hospital; you’re listed as the emergency contact for Sally Jackson.”_

The world wobbles beneath his feet, and he feels his stomach twist; some sixth sense inside him writhes with the _knowing_ that something terrible has happened—something that changes things. 

“What happened to my mom? Is she okay? What room is she in?” he fires off in rapid succession.

_“Your mother was attacked, Mr. Jackson; the investigation is underway. She’s currently in surgery. If you can come to the Emergency Room, we can give you further information, as well as get some more of her paperwork completed.”_

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he breathes, hanging up and spinning around to look at Annabeth and Zoe. “Mom—she’s in the hospital. I have to—have to go—” his knuckles are white with how tightly he grips his keys.

“Percy, breathe,” Annabeth says, spine immediately straightening; as much of a mess as she’s been all day, Percy being in peril snaps her right out of it, and her own thoughts fly out of her brain. “You shouldn’t be driving right now—put on your shoes, grab a change of clothes in case you’re there for a while, and I’ll drive you, okay?”

“Shoes…right…okay…five minutes,” he confirms, a hand tugging at his hair. “Okay. I’m gonna go grab stuff from upstairs—be right back.”

The second he and Zoe are both out the door, Annabeth sucks in a deep breath before pulling out a duffel bag and shoving in outfits, toys for Nik, the whole nine yards. By the time Percy rushes back in, the bag is slung over her shoulder, and she squeezes his arm reassuringly as the walk down to the car. As he has a panic attack on the way to the hospital.

As they sit in the waiting room for hours, and Percy prays for the first time in years, willing to do anything if only he doesn’t hear the worst.

 

/

 

Eventually, a doctor comes out and tells them she’s going to make it. That she’s stable.

(But things are not good.)

Percy relaxes, though, after hearing from the doctor. Finally is able to fall asleep, drooling in the chair beside Annabeth. 

She hates herself for it as she gets up, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Leaves a note next to him, full of regret.

_(I love you. I’m sorry. I’ll keep you updated. Tell Sally I love her.)_

She texts Thalia to tell her she’s on the way, calling Penny’s as she drives to give Marnie a heads up that she won’t be in the next few days, that she’s so sorry.

( _Family emergency_ , she tells her.) 

She picks up Thalia with puffy eyes, drained of tears, before starting the long drive.

Her mind is hell. She doesn’t know if she’s doing the right thing—doesn’t know if there _is_ a right thing. Doesn’t feel like it.

But she keeps driving down the interstate, eyes flashing to the rearview mirror to look at Nik.

(A mother is a protector.) 

She has to do whatever it takes to keep him safe.

(How could she live with herself any other way?)


	18. because of you i am afraid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi all, sorry I’m continuing to be evil. literally just made myself cry writing this yikes—but hey, fastest update since like May!!

Annabeth drops Thalia and Nik off at a hotel, but doesn’t bother to sleep herself—she knows it wouldn’t do any good.

 

Instead, she goes straight to the courthouse; Helen had told her to be there Tuesday, but the public record she looked up said the trial started late the week before, and she thinks a day of being just a bystander might do her some good.

 

Hair in a messy bun, sunglasses obscuring her face, she takes a deep breath before pushing open one of the doors, nauseous and already full of regret and self-hatred.

 

_Am I doing the right thing?_

 

The second she’s inside the room, she can’t breathe, and she’s hit with the realization that she has to choose which side of the room to sit on.

 

It’s largely full, many milling about and chatting, and odds are Helen might not spot her amidst the crowd.

 

But if she does…if she’s caught sitting on the prosecution’s side of the room…

 

 _No_. She might have to sell her soul and testify on the bastard’s behalf, but she can have this one, small rebellion.

 

She sits near the back, jacket on, arms crossed, and by all accounts radiating _‘stay away’_. It’s all she can do to hold herself together—knowing Helen is here, knowing _he_ is here. She thinks if she opens her mouth she won’t be able to stop a scream from coming out.

 

Then it happens—she knew it was coming, she braced herself for it the whole drive, and yet it still surges through her body like poison.

 

 _He’s here_. Her monster, in the same room as her. The awareness is a punch to the gut—the blonde of his hair triggering a primal fear within her.

 

It’s been so long, the memories fly through her mind all at once; the fear, shame, pain fresh as ever.

 

She tunes out most of the proceedings; it’s a lot of nonsense and official business, statements from either side. Technical questions. Recitations from the police report, recaps of the testimonies so far.

 

None of it matters, with her fight or flight instincts fired up. She can’t think about anything but the fact that he’s _here_. It doesn’t make any sense—she knew he would be here. Why is it affecting her so badly??

 

He’s not taking the stand yet—if he is at all, though he’s a skilled enough pedagogue that she can’t imagine the defense not using him.

 

She sees them, too—the others like her. Two of them, sitting together with the prosecution, jaws tight and bodies stiff.

 

(She knows the feeling.)

 

Seeing them, knowing their suffering first hand, and knowing what she’s about to do tomorrow—it’s a different kind of pain.

 

She’s so lost in thought she doesn’t notice him taking the steps, placing his hand on the Bible; instead, she feels her eyes go wide when his voice reverberates through the courtroom.

 

He’s on the stand, giving the crowd he’s drawn a winning smile; delicate, slightly harried and tired.

 

(Human.)

 

(He’s trying to convince them he’s human.)

 

Because surely, no one so human, so relatable, could do something so awful.

 

She’s frozen the entire time he’s speaking. Part of her wants to run, to be anywhere but here, but mainly the idea of moving is laughable—she can’t even _breathe_ , let alone convince her legs to function.

 

(That _voice_.)

 

The words he’s saying don’t matter, although she can guess; she knows him better than she’s ever known anyone.

 

(Figuring him out, learning what would provoke him and what wouldn’t…it had been a vital skill to pick up years ago.)

 

He’s talking about how he could never hurt a fly, the pro-bono work he’s done in the community, the glowing references from everyone who’s ever met him. How he’s so worried for these “misguided” young women. How he hopes they get help, and is sorry that defamation of his character is what they think will help them.

 

(She knows. She’s heard it all before.)

 

(The same bullshit he and Helen spewed when CPS came around after she ran away as a child.)

 

And she just _knows_ —knows he’s not even worried. That he assumes a not guilty verdict is a given, that he’s getting a full night’s rest every night, that somewhere in the community there’s probably a fund being raised to “help an innocent man shoulder court fees”.

 

A fund, a movement, made by people who assume a man can’t wear two faces—that because their interactions with him have only ever been positive, anyone else _must_ be lying.

 

 _They have no fucking idea_.

 

Eventually, recess is called, and she’s immediately up and out of the room. She finds herself in the bathroom, splashing water on her face, attempting to take deep breaths.

 

(They’re coming rapidly and far too shallow. She’s pale as a sheet.)

 

“You okay? You look about how I feel.”

 

Her head jerks up as the other person speaks, and she makes eye contact with a seemingly friendly but exhausted woman, probably around her age.

 

“I—I’m fine, thank you. I drove in from New York this morning, so…it’s just been a long day,” Annabeth says, trying to give a small smile.

 

“You’re telling me,” the other woman nods in sympathy. “We knew going in that this would be hard, but…” she sighs, rubbing at her eyes. “I’m just glad our attorney got the heads up that he would be testifying today. Without warning it would’ve been so much worse—and he hasn’t even talked about—well, anyway.”

 

With a jolt, Annabeth realizes this is one of the women pressing charges.

 

(One of the women she’s about to betray.)

 

“I’m so sorry,” she says softly, wishing she could pour every bit of energy into the three small words.

 

The other woman shrugs as if to say _what can you do?_ , and gives a sad smile.

 

Before Annabeth can say something else— _anything_ else, the door swings open, and her stomach drops.

 

“Annabeth, darling, so glad you could make it—and early, too.” Helen’s words are light and airy, the smirk on her face unsurprised as she turns to the brunette. “Casey, I see you’ve met our newest witness; it’s too bad, really, I think in other circumstances the two of you might’ve been friends.”

 

Revulsion floods Casey’s face, and though their interaction was momentary, Annabeth would swear she can see hurt on the other woman’s face.

 

“I didn’t realize.”

 

“I—” Annabeth opens her mouth to explain, but the glare Helen sends her is a vivid threat.

 

 _For Nik_.

 

“Yes,” Helen says, “It was so sweet of her to come back home to testify on Octavian’s behalf—but then, kindness begets kindness, don’t you think?”

 

At the sound of Octavian’s name, Annabeth and Casey both flinch—just barely, but it’s there.

 

Helen continues talking, but neither of them is paying attention anymore; Casey eyes Annabeth suspiciously.

 

“Shouldn’t we g-go back in?” Annabeth stammers, and without looking at the other two practically trips over herself leaving the bathroom that suddenly feels far, far too small.

 

/

/

 

The trial goes on. Annabeth hasn’t had the time to look up the specifics of the case—

 

(a lie she tells herself; she could’ve made the time, but she couldn’t bring herself to face the facts of the traumas she still blames herself for)

 

\--so she learns them now: Octavian’s defense claims his liaisons with both women were consensual; only one had a rape kit performed, which his attorney claims was rooted in “regret and shame” afterward which the alleged victim did not one to acknowledge.

 

It’s a mentally and emotionally draining session, and by the time the court lets out for the day, Annabeth is over caffeinated but still dead on her feet.

 

She waits outside during the mass exodus, pretending to be occupied with her phone as chattering members of the public leave the room. Though big for their small town, the case isn’t high-profile enough to draw much media presence and by the time the audience is gone the place is nearly silent.

 

“It’s been too long, Bethy.”

 

She nearly convulses at the sound of the nickname he’d always used, and can physically feel her heart slamming in her chest as she looks up at him.

 

“I knew you couldn’t stay away.”

 

She clenches her jaw, but steeles herself. “Just stop. I’m sure you know exactly why I’m here.” She opens the manila folder in hand and thrusts it towards him. “Just sign the damn papers, I’ll testify tomorrow, and then we never have to see each other again.”

 

“Not so fast,” he pushes the papers back at her, then takes a step forward; she steps back in an attempt to maintain the distance between them, but finds herself against the wall. “I’ll sign them _after_ you’ve done your part; I don’t trust that you won’t have a change of heart otherwise. And if you _were_ to decide to work with the prosecution…well, who’s to say I wouldn’t decide to pursue custody of our spawn, hm? I’ve always wanted to be a father.”

 

Her eyes close as she holds back a scream. Hearing him say it—the thought of him convincing a judge he cared about his child after the baby he’d caused her to lose—it _hurts_. “I’ve got it, okay? You know I wouldn’t risk—I obviously didn’t move states away because I was unwilling to do whatever it takes to keep the two of you apart.”

 

_Please, please, just get away from me. I’ll do anything if you get away from me._

 

“Good.” His lips curve upward, and he reaches a hand out to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear; at the contact, the paperwork drops from her hand, sprawling across the tile.

 

(She can’t be bothered to look at it whilst his hand is on her.)

 

“Get your hand off of me,” she says through clenched teeth.

 

“Bethy’s all grown up,” he says wistfully, stroking her hair once more. “Well, alright. I’ll see you tomorrow. You’re still such a good girl.”

 

She doesn’t even notice him leave—his parting remark striking her so hard she runs to the trash can three yards away to throw up.

 

Then she’s on the floor—just sitting there, head on her knees, hyperventilating, ignoring the continued light of her phone as she receives calls and texts from Percy, Thalia, Luke…she can’t handle it right now.

 

(She screens Thalia’s texts just in case they’re about Nik—they’re not, so she puts the phone back down.)

 

She doesn’t know how long she’s been there when she notices footsteps approaching her.

 

“Are you okay?” Casey asks her, for the second time that day. She braces herself as she raises her head, but still feels a pang at the way Casey’s face drops when she sees her face. “Oh. It’s you.”

 

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Annabeth can feel Casey taking in her haggard appearance: hair oily at not having showered, face red and streaked with tears, crumpled papers fanned around her.

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“Sorry?” Annabeth asks, brows pulling together in confusion.

 

Casey crosses her arms, staring her down. “Well, in the first place I don’t understand how women can serve as character witnesses when it’s so clear assaulters don’t seem like bad guys to the people they’re not assaulting—it disgusts me on principle.

“But you…our attorney looked into you. Ages ago. Found out you’d moved away, figured good on you for getting away from them, but we always thought you might’ve been…well, if you _had_ been here, we probably would’ve tried to find out if you might testify with us.”

 

Annabeth swallows heavily, feeling herself pale as Casey circles closer to the truth.

 

“And now you’re here—drove all the way from New York for this? I knew something was off to begin with, even before we met—people don’t just move states away with no contact back home if home is a good place. And I’ve been watching you, since the bathroom. The way you acted when he was speaking, sitting on our side, and now this—having a breakdown? I _know_ you’re one of us.”

 

It’s not a question—and honestly, Annabeth can’t bring herself to deny it. She dealt with this for a decade—she _deserves_ to be able to not deny it.

 

(Just this once.)

 

“I can understand not wanting to press charges of your own; the process is awful, and hard, and I could never hold it against someone for not wanting to go through with it. But to testify _on his behalf_?” her voice rises two octaves, nearing hysterics, and Annabeth is holding back tears. “How could you? What kind of person _does_ that—to other people he’s hurt? Are they paying you, or something? Or threatening to withhold your tuition? Do you just not care about what he’s doing to other people now that you’re not the one within his reach?”

 

At that, Annabeth’s eyes blaze with agony. “You don’t know anything about me,” she whispers. “I am so, so sorry for what you’re going through. And I wish the situation wasn’t this, but—but I _have_ to do this.”

 

“Bullshit! What could possibly make this necessary? Don’t you want him locked up too?”

 

“Of course I do!” she snaps, getting to her feet shakily. “But sometimes—something more important—I have to—” she wipes her face, and begins gathering the pages of paperwork back into the folder. She’s already said too much—if Casey relays any of this to her attorney, it could mean the invalidation of her testimony, and she has no doubt Octavian and Helen would reenge on their deal.

 

The final sheet is beneath Casey’s foot, and the other woman gives her a disappointed look, before reaching down to pick it up. She glances at it as she hands it to her, and Annabeth’s stomach churns as the other woman’s eyes widen with understanding.

 

“Oh,” she breathes, voice so, so much more tender. “Oh, no.”

 

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Annabeth begs, mouth trembling. “ _Please_. I know testifying is wrong, but it’s the only way I can get him to sign—I’m so sorry, if it were just about me—”

 

“This is why you left?” Casey asks, looking shaken.

 

“Yes,” she admits. “They didn’t know, but when Helen came to try to get me to testify the other day she saw him, and now that they know—if I don’t do this—”

 

“They can go for custody,” Casey finishes for her. “How—how old is he?”

 

“Eight months.” The smallest of smiles forms on her face at the thought of Nik. “Please—Casey, please, you can’t use this. I know you want him to be convicted, and I hope he is, but—but this can’t be part of it. This is my son’s _life_ ,” she pleads desperately.

 

“I don’t—I don’t know,” Casey says, face contorted in indecision. “I have to go.”

 

Without another word, she pushes the offending page into Annabeth’s hands and hurries away.

 

Her phone continues to ring, but she makes no move to look at it. She sits back down on the pavement outside, and doesn’t leave for another hour.

 

(She sits, distraught, the bolded _“Petition to Terminate Parental Rights”_ at the top of the page before her laughing in her face, just the latest in the cosmic joke of her life.)


	19. so casually cruel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thought you hated me already? i promise this chapter will make it worse!!! (i am so, so sorry)  
> next one super soon!! so much love for y'all sticking with me this far

Percy has never felt so helpless.

 

The love of his life disappeared in the middle of the night, and refused to answer his calls all day.

 

(When she finally picked up the phone, it took all of thirty seconds for her to begin bawling.)

 

He knows this is the hardest thing she’s ever done—the most brutal, in ways he can already feel chipping away at her. It’s for Nik, he knows—knows she would do anything for him.

 

(But he can’t imagine how hard it is to remember that when you’re in the room with your monster.)

 

(When you have to pretend to be on their team.)

 

There’s no way Annabeth is going to come out of this okay. She’s been back in Virginia for a day, and her voice is already devoid of hope; the testimony itself hasn’t even begun.

 

From the moment she’d told him about Octavian, he’d picked up on the fact that she couldn’t say his name; that even hearing it affected her. That was what scared him the most; as heinous as Gabe had been to him, he said his name with anger. With malice. For the manner in which you were hurt to be so disruptive that the name alone was like a fist to the gut…

 

Well, it was different. Made him understand that while their traumas largely brought them together…they were still so, _so_ different.

 

And now, she’s there. With her monster.

 

And he knows about Nik.

 

(Everyone wishes they could time travel, but the moment Helen saw is one he knows he would sell his soul to eradicate.)

 

He can’t imagine a more hellish situation for her—and he’s not _there_. He can’t support her, love her, glare at the fucker who did unspeakable things to her. He wants to be there with her more than anything in this world, but—

 

The beeping of his mother’s heart monitor. Her slow and rattling breaths.

 

(The doctor’s report, not the least of which was a broken spine.)

 

He should probably try to get some more sleep; the chances of her waking up in the next few hours are apparently less than zero.

 

But her life feels so fragile, now.

 

He should’ve _done_ more. He got too relaxed, too comfortable, too sure that if Gabe were to strike he would’ve done it already.

 

He’d started to believe they were safe. That it was actually over.

 

(The idea was laughable, in retrospect.)

 

Naturally, the officers who arrived on the scene of her attack found no traces of the perpetrator, and, _“Given the year of no contact since his release, we have no evidence to indicate that Mr. Ugliano was involved.”_

 

Bullshit. No one else had reason to attack her—no one would have done it so brutally.

 

A detective postulated it might’ve just been a robbery gone wrong, but anyone on the streets would’ve been able to spot the faded and worn nature of Sally’s clothes.

 

(The detective had then suggested intent of rape; after restraining a roar, Percy carefully enunciated that the attacker had spent an awfully fucking long time inflicting injuries for there to be no evidence of sexual assault, were that the goal.)

 

They couldn’t rule anything out, but he knew.

 

If the circumstances were any different, he would’ve been almost glad Annabeth and Nik weren’t around, two less people’s safety at risk whilst Gabe was near.

 

He had to figure out a plan, before they got back. Immediately. Somehow—to get Gabe locked up, or out of the picture, to get them all in Witness Protection, something…

 

/

 

He squints when he comes to the next morning, unsure why he had woken, given how bone tired he still feels, until a faint cough brings his attention to the hospital bed.

 

“Mom!” he breathes, jamming his thumb on the nurse call button.

 

“Th—” she coughs again around the tube down her throat, clearly distressed at the intrusion, at the lack of mobility she currently has.

 

“Don’t try to talk, Mom—the nurse will be here soon, okay? You’re okay.”

 

Not strictly true, but in moments like these…well, sometimes honesty and cruelty share a face.

 

The nurse runs in and though her voice is light and soothing, her eyes meticulously comb over Sally’s body, her charts. She’s quickly followed in by another woman who, though ten years younger than she, Percy knows to be the doctor. The doc gives the okay for the breathing tube to come out, eventually, and once more pain meds have been administered Sally falls back asleep almost instantaneously.

 

The doctor turns to Percy with sad eyes; they’ve grown familiar, over the thus far brief but intense time Sally has been in—from what one of the men who work in registration told Percy, she came into the shift early specifically when someone mentioned his mother’s case to her.

 

(Women have to stick together—especially those who understand the unique hell that put Sally here.)

 

(Her own monster was the reason Dr. Chalbi found herself in medicine.)

 

“Do you want to tell her, or do you want me to do it?” she asks gently.

 

Percy closes his eyes, bracing himself, knowing that the kindness she’s offering him is probably against protocol. “Let me do it, please. She…yeah.” Coming from him won’t make her reaction any better, won’t make it easier for her to accept, but—the truth of it is he doesn’t want anyone else to see her that vulnerable.

 

Doesn’t think she would, either, but then if she had it her way he would think her invincible, too.

 

“Percy?” she mumbles when she comes to a few hours later; for a moment, he thinks she’s sleep-talking, but then her eyes drag open.

 

(Despite everything going on, some tiny part of him glows at the reminder that even without knowing where she is, without being fully conscious, he’s the first person she calls for.)

 

“Hey, Mom. I’m here.”

 

“What…” She trails off and begins coughing again, esophagus still irritated from the throat tube despite its absence. After a moment, she seems to realize where she is, remember what happened, and her eyes widen in terror. “Percy, you have to go, he found me, he’ll come for you too!”

 

(He sees her shoulders move, and he knows—he _knows_ —she’s realizing something’s wrong.)

 

“Percy, I can’t—” she doesn’t finish the sentence.

 

(They both know. They both know what it means.)

 

“He broke it, Mom,” Percy croaks, tears already forming in his eyes even though _he’s not the one who’s supposed to be upset here_ —he’s supposed to stay strong for her. “And he—he stabbed you between two of the vertebrae he didn’t break, near the bottom—the doc called them lumber vertebrae or something, I don’t remember, I—I’m so sorry, Mom. She said—she said barring a medical miracle the likes of which haven’t been seen, you won’t walk again.”

 

And shit—he knows he said it wrong. There are more eloquent, better ways he should’ve done it, but how can there ever be a good way to tell someone they’ll be paralyzed for the rest of their life?

 

(Someone with a known enemy hunting them, who they have to run away from?)

 

(Except she can’t walk—she won’t be _able_ to run away from him.)

 

“Oh,” is all she says, eyes downcast. She doesn’t have the energy to pretend that that’s okay in front of her son.

 

There’s more he should tell her—she has a shattered hand, a broken femur, a punctured lung.

 

(And no health insurance.)

 

Realistically, it’s a miracle she’s alive.

 

But now that her survival is ensured physically, Percy can focus on the fact that he has no fucking idea how they’re going to make it through this financially—as if they weren’t _already_ drowning in debt.

 

“You’re gonna be okay, Mom. We’ll make it through this. We always do.”

 

She nods and attempts a small smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m tired, honey, I think I just want to rest for a little while.”

 

He plays along, presses a kiss to her forehead and closes the door behind him.

 

(Pretends not to hear her sobs start through the door the second he’s outside the room.)

 

He slides to the floor, leaning against her door. Guarding her—the way he should’ve been when she was attacked.

 

It hurts to hear her mournful crying—it doesn’t stop.

 

But he deserves it. He needs the reminder, of what’s important.

 

His phone rings, and while he wishes it were Annabeth, he knows exactly who it is.

 

“I can’t afford to pay you,” he says monotonously, no preamble. “Everything I have has to go to medical bills now, and while I wish I could ask you to reapply for the protection order and start a lawsuit against the state for previously not giving her one and allowing this to happen—I can’t pay for your services. And I’m told there’s no evidence that it was him, the bullshit, so it doesn’t seem like it would help much, anyway.”

 

Their lawyer is quiet for a moment, before she speaks. “I know I’m a shark, Mr. Jackson, and that I benefit from our professional relationship, but I didn’t want to see your mother suffer. I don’t want to see her go undefended now.” A beat of silence. “I can’t promise anything, but—I’ll try to see if we can find a way. If I can afford to do it pro-bono, I’d like to but Percy—I have kids of my own to think about. I need to be able to feed them, too.”

 

/

 

While their relationship has always been confusing and probably not the greatest, relief floods through Percy at the sight of Luke—and even more, at the sight of Nico and Piper behind him.

 

They’re carrying flowers—not allowed in ICU, but once Sally gets a long-term room they’ll brighten her day.

 

“Heard you could use some company,” Luke says, clapping him on the back. He says it like it’s no big deal, just friends hanging out, but the reaffirming way he grips Percy’s shoulder—well, he can understand why Annabeth looks up to him more than almost anyone. Why a bunch of would-be punk kids from every horror story of a home do, too.

 

“Where’s Leo?” he eventually gets the nerve to ask—because while he doesn’t expect anything form him, it upsets him more than he’d like to admit that one of his best friends isn’t here when his mother is on her veritable death bed.

 

“Where do you think?” Nico asks with a raised eyebrow. “He’s already started working on a tricked out wheelchair for her. I think we talked him out of the flame design on the side, but he’s convinced a portable outlet and toaster are both necessities.”

 

 _Of course_. Of course, he’s not not here because he doesn’t love Sally—he’s not here because he _does_.

 

(Leo’s not the best with words—but things, he can do. It’s the only way he could think of to help.)

 

“I don’t think I can do this,” Percy confesses quietly a bit later, soft enough that only Luke can hear. “We can’t afford—any of her treatment. We’re already in debt. There’s no way to stop him coming after her again, and—and _Annabeth_.” His voice breaks on her name. “It’s all too much. The best people in my life—why do they have to get fucked over? Go through so much?”

 

“I wish I knew.” Luke shakes his head, running a hand over his buzz cut. “And I wish there were any answer that made it okay. But there just isn’t. People suffer who don’t deserve it, people are successful and lucky who don’t deserve it, and—we just have to hope that sometimes it works out.”

 

Luke struggles with this daily—with trying to reconcile himself to it, for the kids he works with that he loves so much. Who deserve so much more than they have ever gotten.

 

Their hearts are beating, and that’s supposed to be enough—but it isn’t. Living, surviving, it’s not the same, and they’ve only ever known one. Odds are they only ever _will_.

 

(Such is life.)


	20. and you put me through hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : I love you all. This is the big one. Could not sleep until it went up.
> 
> **TRIGGER WARNING** Annabeth has some brutal flashbacks and descriptors.
> 
> Please please please take care of yourselves—if you think it will be an issue for you PM me and I can send you a summary of the chapter.

There’s a moment when she wakes up—just the briefest of moments—that Annabeth feels okay.

 

She’s disoriented, hasn’t really processed where she is, what she needs to do when she gets out of bed, whether or not Nik is awake yet.

 

She takes a deep breath, keeps her eyes shut in the if-they-stay-closed-I-might-still-fall-back-asleep fashion.

 

Then she remembers.

 

(Thirty seconds later she’s in the bathroom of their hotel room, puking. Shaking. Hyperventilating.)

 

She can’t do this.

 

(Nik begins to whine from the playpen they brought with them.)

 

She has to do this.

 

“You know you can still change your mind.” Thalia hasn’t questioned her once since she explained why they had to go to Virginia—hasn’t tried to talk her out of it, or convince her there was another way.

 

Which is why she knows she’s only reminding her of this, in this moment, so that she feels like she has a choice.

 

“I really can’t,” she whispers, wiping at her mouth. She gets to her feet, making her way to Nik, and holds him to her chest; the baby squirms but hums happily.

 

 _This_. This is why she needs to do it—for the tiny human in her arms who means more than anything in this world.

 

Letting anyone hurt him will never be an option.

 

“I love you,” she tells him.

 

He grows antsy, as they stand there, and starts screeching until she puts him on the bed, where he can crawl around on his own.

 

(The way his face lights up when he sees something new, his gurgles as he throws himself face down onto the pillows as though playing possum— _this is why she needs to do it_.

 

“As long as you’re sure,” Thalia says carefully, coming up beside her to squeeze her in a rare hug. “Call if you need anything.”

 

“I will.”

 

Annabeth gets dressed robotically, not thinking of what she’s about to do. This day will suck, and then it will end, and that will be that.

 

_Just another bad day. Nothing special._

 

She doesn’t eat anything—knows it wouldn’t stay in her stomach long, anyway, what with the anxiety and dread coursing through her. Gets to the courthouse an hour early. Hopes the silence will soothe her.

 

(It doesn’t.)

 

The judge is the next one to arrive, nodding to her as he passes. Then Octavian’s attorney—his big smile makes her shudder. When he calls her inside, “to prepare her to testify”, she has to hold back a sob.

 

(She wonders if this will be the last moment she will ever be able to live with herself.)

 

He walks her through the motions again, how the procedure will go, what things she shouldn’t answer, how she should phrase her comments about the defendant.

 

She knows the moniker “defendant” refers to the accused defending themselves, but can’t help the hysteric giggle that escapes her at the idea of Octavian defending anyone.

 

She doesn’t really have memories of a time before he began tormenting her—before going to bed meant hiding under the blanket in fear, squeezing her eyes shut and praying that this time it would be enough to keep the doorknob from turning.

 

(It never was.)

 

The attorney is still talking, but she’s drowning in flashbacks and memories: falling asleep in school because she couldn’t fall asleep at night, awkward games of _never have I ever_ where everyone would smirk and ask how far you’d gone when the question made her cringe, the weird looks when she flinched from physical contact.

 

The first time—waking up to heaviness on top of her, crying out, bruising and a searing pain; screaming again and his hand covering her mouth until she passed out. Waking up confused, still a child, hoping it was a dream but sore in all the wrong places. A part of her gone forever—not the virginity itself that mattered, but the innocence, the piece of her that was her own. Everything from then on, every experience, every friendship, tainted. Seen through different eyes.

 

Sixteen, realizing something had changed—hoping he wouldn’t notice when he came for her those nights. For the first time in her life being more terrified than relieved when he suddenly stopped that night—flashes of him and Helen beating her. More pain than she’d ever felt a few days later, and then bleeding, and then not being sure which hurt more, what was actually happening inside her or the knowledge that the terrible ache was her baby’s life fading from this world.

 

Years and years of wondering whether life was worth it. If it would ever end. If her skin could ever feel like her own, if she would ever get to be the one who decided who touched her—and even _if_ they did so.

 

(Why anyone bothered to invent the word “no” in the first place, when it was completely useless. Made things worse, most days.)

 

Long nights. Days of being sore and classmates asking why; questions about the hickey she didn’t have a way to hide, when everyone was so sure she’d been single. Sitting still when he stroked her proprietarily.

 

( _Mine_ and _good girl_ and _shhh, you like it_ over and over and over and over)

 

When he was angry, the days he turned the light on as he entered her room. Knowing it would be worse. Knowing he would revel in her pain a little extra.

 

( _I love when you whimper for me_ and smirks and _ask me to hurt you_ and calling her beautiful as he made it sting and burn and bruise and _hurt_. The time she pissed him off so badly he refused to pull out and slept while still inside her.)

 

Something being off, again—biting her lip in line at the store, not making eye contact with the judgey cashier eyeing her left hand as she scanned the pregnancy test.

 

(Said cashier’s lip curled when she paid with carefully counted ones and change.)

 

Panic. A day of planning—the shitty car she’d made a deal to get the day she turned eighteen, bought early with money she’d squirreled away so, so carefully. Torn between driving as fast as the engine would take her and reasonably so as to not draw the attention of law enforcement.

 

Trying to find places to park at night where she could sleep. Keeping a toothbrush in her purse, attempting to clean up in the bathroom at work before her shift. Constantly on high alert.

 

(The nightmares constant all the while. The feeling of hands on her skin, an invader inside her—they didn’t go away, even as the days away from him grew into months.)

 

The glares of everyone around her. The comments about _foolish kids_ and _if you’re going to be a whore don’t be too stupid to use a condom_ and _you should be ashamed_ and all the while wanted to scream that she never chose this life, never has had a say in any of it.

 

This—testifying—shouldn’t really come as a surprise. Her being on the stand at Octavian’s behest.

 

(What her body does has never been her choice, anyway.)

 

“Do you understand all of this, Miss Chase? Any questions?”

 

“No, thank you. I understand perfectly. I’d like a minute, now.”

 

Finds herself in the bathroom again, clutching the torn journal, pages wrinkled and blotted and in every shade of ink. To bring it today, when she will illegally give a false testimony—idiotic.

 

But she needed it here. Needed to remind herself that the years of pain were real. The little girl that started writing down what was happening to her, desperate to just get the words out, even if no one but her would ever read them—she needed to be here today.

 

She’s over the toilet again, dry heaving since there’s no food left in her to lose. She cries, considers slapping herself to snap out of it.

 

When she finally calms down enough to leave the stall, she’s face to face with Casey, _again_.

 

“Please, you don’t have to do this,” Casey begins, expression desperate, but Annabeth is desperate too, and she _does_ have to, and her will to do so is already to week and she won’t jeopardize her conviction to do what’s right for Nik, so she pushes past her without hesitation, the blood rushing through her head deafening.

 

She feels like she can’t breathe the whole time she’s sitting with Helen and Octavian, and he gives her a hug and what the crowd probably reads as a reassuring smile before she takes the stand.

 

Before she can blink her hand is on a bible.

 

“Miss Chase, how long have you known the defendant?”

 

The defense attorney’s questions are no surprise; he’d run through all of them with her multiple times this morning, as well as those the prosecution would likely ask.

 

“Fourteen years.”

 

“And in those fourteen years, has the defendant ever made any sexual advances towards you, Miss Chase?”

 

The third time today she’s heard the question, but it still makes her heart stop. “No, he has not.”

The lie burns her lips.

 

“Do you believe the defendant capable of any manner of violence or forced sexual contact, Miss Chase?”

 

“Of course not.” Her soul is cracking with each question. She can’t believe she’s actually doing this. “The closest Oc-Octavian could come to hurting anyone is when he kills spiders for me.”

 

A few laughs from the less bothered members of the crowd.

 

It’s been ten minutes, maybe, and yet she feels like she’s been on the stand for hours. Her mouth is dry. The world is heavy.

 

She braces herself for the next question, but before the defense attorney can get the words out of his mouth, the prosecution calls for a recess.

 

(The entire time, it’s taken everything in her not to look to where Casey stares her down with sad eyes.)

 

She can’t avoid her now, though; the other woman holds out a pleading hand as she takes the few steps down.

 

“ _Please_ , Annabeth—I know you have no reason to trust me, but please. Just—just give me ten minutes. I promise it’s important.”

 

“Casey, you have to stop trying to talk me out of—it’s already too late to—”

 

“Please. Just listen.” The terror, the pain, the exhaustion in her voice—it’s familiar. So familiar it hurts.

 

Annabeth gives in, already knowing it will only make it harder to get back on the stand. “Fine. Start talking.”

 

“Not here. Trust me—you don’t want…” Casey trails off, shaking her head, then gestures for Annabeth to follow her into the hallway.

 

“Annabeth, darling, don’t be long,” Helen calls.

 

As soon as they’re outside the courtroom, Annabeth shudders, the adrenaline fading, the reality of what she’s doing sinking in.

 

“Whatever it is you’re going to say, you have to understand—”

 

“You have to protect your son—I get it. I do,” she swears, pushing hair out of her face hurriedly. “But I couldn’t sleep last night thinking about it, because, well, your testimony would mean everything for our case, but also because—it’s not fair, that you have to defend him. That your child’s fate is in his hands. So I—I did some research. And, I mean, if you don’t believe me, you can look it up yourself, it’s all on government and legal sites but—” Casey shuffles through the canvas bag on her arm, pulling out different papers hastily. “Here. Just—look.”

 

Documents regarding laws and protocol in both Virginia and New York. A spreadsheet.

 

It’s several minutes before Annabeth puts together what Casey’s laid out before her—what all of these documents are referring to.

 

“Am I reading this right?” she hesitates. “If I pressed charges…”

 

Casey nods. “With a conviction, both New York and Virginia have statues that dictate he couldn’t get custody. But it can’t be a conviction for us—it has to be for the one that conceived him specifically—I mean, I’m sure you could press for all of the times—that is, I’m assuming it wasn’t just once,” she whispers the end apologetically.

 

Annabeth gives her a sharp nod.

 

“I thought it might be. I’m—really sorry.” Casey takes a deep breath, then continues. “And I figured that would be a gamble for you—because if he weren’t convicted, he’d be even more vindictive and likely to go for custody, and obviously that’s the worst thing that could happen.” She pulls the spreadsheet to the front of the sheaf. “But, see, the age of consent in Virginia is eighteen—so even if they decide that he’s not guilty, and we’re lying sluts, which I’m trying to mentally prepare myself for if we’re begin honest, because we all know women never win these cases…but anyway, even if they decide it was all consensual, even you, it doesn’t matter, because yours was still statutory. And that’s the one that conceived your son, anyway, and if they have a paternity test as proof it’s undeniable that he was— _with_ you—before you were eighteen. And then you have your conception conviction so he can’t get custody.”

 

Annabeth narrows her eyes, letting herself actually consider what Casey is saying. “And this would be—worst case scenario? I can…”

 

But she’s already given a false testimony—to retract her statements now might discredit anything she does say. On her record…it would look horrible. What could that mean for her future—jobs, even with regards to Nik? Could they argue she’s an unfit parent?

 

She squirrels herself away in a dark alcove, secluded enough that no one finds her for the rest of the hour-long recess.

 

(She knows they’re trying. Knows Helen won’t rest until she’s reminded her exactly what’s at stake, after seeing her talk with Casey again.)

 

Eventually, her time is up—she has to go back.

 

(Back to that horrible room, with Helen and _him_ and his voice and her memories and the desire to scream and the slimy attorney and the judge who has no idea how wrong all of this is.)

 

Her phone buzzes from inside her purse—she thought she’d turned it to do not disturb already, but nonetheless pulls it out to turn off the ringer.

 

A text from Percy—he’s sent so little correspondence since she left.

 

(It’s not like him. Something is very, very wrong.)

 

She wishes she had the energy to find out what, but everything in her is trying not to fall apart. She doesn’t have anything leftover.

 

_I love you, baby. Whatever you do, I’m so proud of you. You’re so brave. Give Nik a hug for me._

 

She’s crying again—jesus christ. She’s not exactly the I’ve-cried-once-in-my-life type, but she hasn’t been this emotional since…well, maybe ever. It’s like it needs to escape her, the pain and disgust.

(it has to find a way out of her or she’ll explode.)

 

She makes her way back to the courtroom, where for the first time in her life, she’s two minutes late. The court is in disarray, and Helen and Octavian both look beyond livid.

 

She shakily climbs back up to the stand; and while still awful, and horrifying, and the last place on the planet she wants to be, it seems—different.

 

“Are you ready to begin, Miss Chase?” The defense attorney asks between clenched teeth.

 

Annabeth looks up, into the eyes that haunt her.

 

(Those eyes. Her _son’s_ eyes—but on her little boy, so full of love and light.)

 

Eyes she could never get out of her head. Eyes she used to dream about stabbing out—truly, gouging them in the most awful of ways.

 

But then, she looks to Casey—to Casey’s side, the woman a few years older than them whose name she’s learned is Alexa.

 

(Casey—who knows her secret. Who isn’t telling it despite knowing how it would help her case. Because women have to stick together—especially those who’ve survived the same monster. Whose monster still roams the earth.)

 

She thinks of Nik—the reason she’s here. Because keeping him safe is all that mattered.

 

(But if she could do something else and still keep him safe…)

 

“Your honor?” she turns to the judge with watery eyes, her voice raspy. “I’m so sorry, but I—I have to retract my earlier comments.”

 

The tension in the room—the gasps from the audience, for whom this is just entertainment; a sob of relief in a voice that sounds much like Casey’s; outraged hisses from the defense table.

 

“Objection!” Octavian’s attorney demands, but the judge waves him away.

 

(Something about the shattered, desperate look in her eyes.)

 

“Please elaborate, Miss Chase.”

 

His voice is not gentle, but he is not cruel. The picture of neutrality.

 

“I thought—” She presses a hand to her mouth, a rattling breath into her lungs. “I was under duress, Your Honor. I’m so sorry that I gave false evidence, but—it was to protect my son.”

 

It’s out there, now, and there’s a wrenching pain in her gut— _no going back_.

 

“Helen—Mrs. Blackshear Chase and the defendant, they threatened to file for custody if I didn’t support their case. They agreed to sign the paperwork to terminate parental rights after I completed my end of the deal.”

 

The judge leans forward in his chair, eyebrows raised. There’s knowing in his eyes, but he maintains procedure. “Miss Chase, please clarify why the defendant and his sister would be in such a position as to pursue custody of the child.”

 

“My son—” The tears are pouring down her face now, and she can’t believe she’s letting herself say the words—prays to whatever god there might be that what she’s doing won’t hurt Nik. “My son is biologically—and only biologically—the child of the defendant.” She flinches at the gasps of those who hadn’t put the pieces together. “He was conceived just over a year and a half ago, when I was raped by the defendant, for what was not—not the first time. While I was still a minor.”

 

(Chaos ensues.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this genuinely made me sob. thank you for reading


	21. when i see you again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this one is also evil, and a little short BUT a lot goes down and I promise things will start coming together next chapter and update will be soon—I know this one took a hot minute but I really don’t want to mess this up, these characters and this story mean the world to me and I want everything to be right. 
> 
> Thank you so so much for all of your lovely reviews (esp guests I can’t reply to)—you are so so kind and supportive and I’m so blessed that any of you even bother to read this, let alone like it. We’re so quickly approaching the end and I don’t know how I could ever deserve any of the love and attention you’ve given this, nor how to end it as well as you deserve.
> 
> (ps sorry for the end of this chapter in advance)

Sally’s been in the hospital three days when she convinces Percy to go home for the first time.

 

He doesn’t think, the whole commute, blocks out the world, every thought in his head.

 

(The second he closes his front door behind him, he falls to the floor.)

 

He almost lost her. Even now, things might look okay, but he’s heard stories---he knows nothing in life is guaranteed.

 

(Except pain.)

 

Mrs. O’Leary rushes to him, whining pitifully until he halfheartedly scratches behind her ears. She’s not used to being alone.

The apartment feels more empty than it ever has while uninhabited before; something about it rings with finality.

 

Later, he’ll wonder why that didn’t strike him—wonder how he could know something was so wrong instinctively, from so far away. As though the very walls already knew something would change irrevocably.

 

(He doesn’t question it now.)

 

He drags himself into the shower, turns the water to as near boiling as he can get it. Falls asleep standing up after a few minutes.

 

Manages to make his way to his bed. Collapse in it, putting his phone near his pillow in case Annabeth calls.

 

(Forgets it’s on five percent—by the time anyone calls, it’ll be dead.)

 

Percy closes his eyes and slips into REM almost instantly. No darkness touches his dreams, and he’s like a stone for hours.

 

He’s woken prematurely by a heavy pounding. Bleary eyed, opens the door without checking the peephole, too tired to be on guard until the door is fully open and he’s met with a knife to the gut.

 

(Gabe slams the door shut, the navy blue threads of his clothes all Percy can see.)

 

/

/

 

Recess is called for the rest of the day.

 

Annabeth is swarmed immediately, a tightening in her chest as the room converges.

 

She can’t think about the masses, though; can’t think about the prosecution’s wide eyes and rapid speech, the defense’s anger. The gratitude and pride and pain in Casey’s face.

 

(What she _can_ think about is the acute anger in Octavian’s eyes. The promise of retribution. The way Helen had to grip his tensed muscles to stop him from getting to her.)

 

She fucked up. This was the wrong thing to do—she’s put Nik in danger. Octavian won’t allow this to stand.

 

Casey and Alexa begin telling her all the details of the case she’d yet to hear—how they’d initially pressed the charges months ago, the delays in court, the check they’d been offered to drop them.

 

They look to her with subdued hope; sorry for her suffering, but thinking their case might finally stand a chance. Their monster could actually be put away—for _good_. Some semblance of justice is _so close_.

 

(She doesn’t hear a word they say.)

 

They end up at a restaurant in town she can’t afford, wincing as she knows the waiter does internally when she asks for just a glass of water.

 

She doesn’t want to be here.

 

“Well, Ms. Chase, while the circumstances are heinous…welcome to the team.” The prosecution attorney says, a middle aged woman with graying hair and an unblinking stare. “Luckily, charges can be added at any point throughout the trial prior to deliberation, so we don’t have to worry about waiting for an entirely separate trial to also come to fruition, and repeat all of the same preliminary information we already have. Of course, you’ll likely now be re-examined by the defense; and of course, by us, but we’ll discuss ahead of time so there will be no surprises. What the defense is going to throw at you…it won’t be pretty.”

 

Casey cringe, and Alexa’s jaw tightens whilst her skin pales.

 

“I can’t afford to pay you,” Annabeth says bluntly. The first words she’s spoken since leaving the stand.

 

“That’s not an issue. As soon as we’re done here, we’ll go file for an Emergency Protective Order—that goes into effect immediately, so he’ll be mandated to have no contact with you long enough to get an actual Temporary Protection Order enacted. Hopefully, that will last long enough for the rest of the trial, but if not we’ll file for another.”

 

The attorney, whose name is Amira but everyone just calls by her last name (Richards), has already proven herself to be someone who’s unafraid to be honest with them—brutally so, because it’s in their best interest. If anyone is going to be real with them about the likely outcome of the trial, it’s her. Annabeth should just ask her—just ask their odds. How much worse it’s going to get.

 

(But she doesn’t. Can’t bear it—can barely bear the thought of what she’s done.)

 

Without explanation, she drops the dilapidated journal onto the table; it smacks onto the wood too loudly, and heads around them turn, but she couldn’t care less.

 

Richards raises her eyebrows expectantly, but when Annabeth merely stares her down silently, picks up the crinkled and stained notebook. She opens to the first page and begins reading, and Annabeth can see the exact moment the older woman realizes what she’s holding, the moment her shoulders jerk and her jaw drops, lip curling up with disgust though the possibilities race through her mind. “This is…”

 

“Nearly every incident for over a decade. Documented, dated—I’m sure they can have some expert date the ink, if they don’t believe it.” The only possession she’d held onto, since it started. The rest of it…brutal reminders.

 

“This could be a game changer.” Richards thumbs through the pages carefully. “I don’t want to promise anything, but…I don’t know the last time I saw something so promising.”

 

(so nauseating to read. To watch the handwriting grow steadily messier throughout the years as the vocabulary matured. The pages with blurred ink surrounded by splotches.)

 

“Over a decade?” Casey whispers, pressing a hand to her mouth—thinking that if she doesn’t, she’ll either scream or vomit, and she doesn’t know which would be worse.

 

And Annabeth would never begrudge someone their pain—would never try to say her experience was _worse_ or _more_ horrifying, because no one’s trauma deserves that kind of disrespect. None would be “better” to have gone through—no one should have to go through _any_ of them. That’s not a thing.

 

(But there’s something so fucking validating about a complete stranger seeing her pain so viscerally—something so gratifying for the twelve year old whose mother said the thing eating her alive was “no big deal” and watched her be another human’s plaything for years afterward.)

 

(the recognition that this part of her, this innocence and happiness and belief in the good of the world that’s been gone for so long, that everyone _should_ have throughout their childhood—it was _taken_. That she deserved more.)

 

“Let me speak with a colleague, and we’ll figure out where to go from here.” There’s something quiet in Richards’s face—something that worries Annabeth, as the professional steps away, immediately pressing her phone to her ear. Something not quite right.

 

Before she has time to think about it, her phone rings, and she winces at the sight of Thalia’s contact. “Hi, Thals, I’m sorry I’m running so late, is he okay? I—”

 

“Annabeth.” Thalia’s voice is more pained than she’s ever heard it, and it scares her.

 

 _No._ Not when things are finally coming together.

 

“He said he—he tried to call you.” She can almost see the way the words are sticking in her friend’s throat, and closes her eyes. _Which he?_ “Annabeth, I—we have to go home. Something’s happened.”

 

And Thalia hasn’t even said it yet, but she crumples out of her chair, because for Thalia—solid, unflinching Thalia—to be this upset, someone must be gone.

 

/

/

 

It’s all a blur, when he comes to.

 

He remembers being stabbed—unfortunately, that couldn’t be part of the trauma-induced amnesia.

 

The door swinging open slowly, his friends ambling in before taking stock of the situation.

 

(Luke rushing Gabe, while Piper runs to his side, putting pressure on the wound even as she starts to dial 911.)

 

Gabe pulling a gun. Collective tension.

 

The sound of a gunshot. Piper’s gasp of pain, the sight of her collapsing.

 

Passing back out.

 

(Coming to again, seeing Luke’s face beside him—but with none of the usual warmth alighting his eyes.)

 

The only sound is Gabe mumbling to himself, tossing the gun to the ground as he goes to the bathroom, presumably to find cleaning supplies to erase his trail.

 

Percy can’t move.

 

(The stab had become a slice, before they’d arrived, across his stomach and inches deep. So much blood lost, already)

 

Piper whimpering—biting down on her lip as she crawls to the gun. His eyes sliding closed again.

 

The bathroom door opening. Two more shots fired. Gabe’s thump to the floor.

 

(Unbeknownst to a now unconscious Percy, a struggling breath from Piper. Her thumb finally hitting send.)

 

( _“911, what is your emergency?”_ to a silent room.)

 

Only one heart still beating when the paramedics arrive.


	22. cried the whole way home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!!! back again, and i promise no more cliffhangers--we're about 3-4 chapters (+ epilogue) from the end, y'all!!! thank you so much for sticking with me thus far. i adore you.

She probably shouldn’t have been behind the wheel, but she had to get to Thalia. To Nik.

 

(Luke. Piper. _Gone_.)

 

She can’t even cry, the whiplash of emotion of the last few days too much for her to do anything but shut down.

 

Thalia, puffy eyed and shaking, cannot say the same.

 

They sit together through the night, unable to start the long drive home but too drained and heartbroken to do anything else.

 

(Annabeth can’t imagine what Thalia’s feeling—her _soul mate_. Gone, protecting her cousin.)

 

And god, _Jason_.

 

How are any of them supposed to move past this?

 

Thalia finally passes out after crying for hours, wordlessly, but Annabeth can’t bear to.

 

(She knows what will join the cast of her nightmares the next time she does.)

 

Nik doesn’t understand—obviously, the kid’s not even one—but he can sense something is off. He can tell she’s sad, as much as she tries to hide it, so he’s been crying more than usual too; because if Mommy’s sad, of _course_ he should be sad too. That’s love.

 

(The best, most pure love she could ever be lucky enough to receive. A love she could never deserve.)

 

Her phone rings—Richards, again—and she would put it on silent if she weren’t constantly worried she’d receive an update about Percy; from Nico, the only one still able to properly function.

 

She knows Jason and Leo are together. From what Nico overheard, they’re breaking every fragile thing they can get their hands on, in an attempt to handle their grief.

 

(In Jason’s apartment, as Leo’s is a crime scene currently under investigation.)

 

(The scene of murder. Multiple.)

 

Even thinking about it hurts.

 

Her phone vibrates again, and while she considers chucking it at the linoleum in the hopes that it will break—every phone call in the last week has seemed to be the source of bad news and pain, and she can’t handle anymore. Another piece of bad news will break her.

 

It’s actually Nico this time, though, and she hurriedly accepts the call.

 

“How is he?”

 

_“He’s okay. He just woke up a few minutes ago—he’s on hella pain meds, but he seems somewhat present. Asked about you. He remembers…what happened. The police kicked me out to take his statement as soon as the doctor okay’ed it.”_

“But he’s okay. He’s—” The word _alive_ is the one on the tip of her tongue, and a tsunami of pain and remembering that her best friend was just lost consumes her.

 

_“I know. And it doesn’t help to hear now, but—it’ll get better. The missing them won’t, but…eventually you can live with it.”_

 

For a moment, the sting of guilt—she hadn’t even thought about how this must be for him, how reminiscent of his sister’s death.

 

But she can’t hold onto the shame for long. There just isn’t any more room for hurt inside her.

 

“Thanks, Nico. I have to go.”

 

She hangs up without remembering to say goodbye—realizes it a second later, but it doesn’t seem to matter much, anyway.

 

“How’s Percy?” Thalia whispers. She’s in the fetal position, in the corner of the room, and it reminds her so much of her childhood—her mom high out of her mind, grabbing Jason and hiding in a closet until all their mom’s “friends” left or they fell asleep. Making herself as small as possible.

 

(All her mother had ever wanted her to do—take up less space.)

 

“He woke up. Talked to the cops. Nico said it looks like he’ll make a full recovery.” The words are hollow, though; can a recovery really be full when there’s a hole inside you the shape of the two lives lost?

 

“Thank god. Something…something good. Fuck.”

 

The pain is visible in Thalia’s body: the set of her shoulders, her tightened jaw. The way she refuses to look Annabeth in the eye.

 

And finally, _finally_ , for the first time since finding out her best friend and would-be older brother have died, Annabeth cries.

 

“They deserved so much more,” she whispers angrily. “We all—deserve so much more. We’ve been through so much.”

 

And sure, maybe religion explains it away, with the “blessed are they who mourn” because they will rejoice in the afterlife, and maybe she believes that or maybe she doesn’t, but right now it doesn’t seem to _matter_.

 

They’re dead. Two of the best people who have ever fucking lived—who dedicated their lives to nothing but helping the people around them. Gone. Percy hospitalized. Sally paralyzed. Thalia and Jason grieving, her having to argue that the man who raped her for years did anything _wrong_ and fight for him to _not_ be allowed near a child.

 

_What the hell is this world? How is any of this okay?_

 

A knock sounds on the door, and at the sight of Amira in the peephole she’s only further enraged. She heaves the door open with a sob, Nik balanced on her hip, and glares at the attorney.

 

“Ms. Chase, I’ve been trying to contact you—”

 

“And my ignoring your calls was no accident. Why are you here?” she demands.

 

“We need you to come meet us—it’s vital for the case.” Richards’s face is earnest.

 

“There is nothing you could say right now that could get me to come,” Annabeth says, voice empty. “Two of the most important people in my life are _dead_. I could care less about my next time on the stand right now. Plan your battle strategy alone.”

 

“Ms. Chase, I’m so sorry for your loss, but—there’s a plea deal.”

 

/

/

 

For what feels like the thousandth time in the last twenty-four hours, Percy regains consciousness, and has to stop himself from immediately crying out in pain.

 

A memory floats through his head of a nurse reminding him to press the call button for more drugs, but he knows he won’t; too much has happened for him to continue being unable to hold coherent thoughts.

 

“Hey.” Nico’s voice is gruff—which for him equals worried—and quieter than he’s heard it since the time the younger man talked Annabeth down from a panic attack.

 

“Sup,” he rasps, wincing at the movement of his diaphragm. Nico eyes him and reaches for the nurse call button without another word, but Percy attempts to paw his hand away. “No. Don’t want—meds. Fucking with my head.”

 

Nico lets out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. You get a five minute head start before I tell them you’re up.”

 

“Fair.” Percy takes a deep breath, then looks into his friend’s eyes. Before he even gets the words out, Nico braces himself, knowing what he’s about to ask—knowing exactly what Percy wants to know, the first time they’ve really talked since everything went down. “They’re gone?” His voice wobbles in a way he didn’t know it was capable of.

 

A nod of confirmation from Nico. “Gabe too. The only good thing to come from this…” _massacre_ is the only word to come to mind. “Jason’s sorry he couldn’t be here.”

 

Sorrow fills him. “God, I could never expect him to be. Not when he’s processing…shit, Thalia? And Annabeth’s case, jesus.” _Everything—gone to shit._

_They deserved so much more._

“Thalia is…coping.”

 

(Not really.)

 

“Annabeth…well, a lot has gone down where that’s concerned—in a good-ish way, _stay in the bed_ god damn it, Perseus. You were _stabbed_ , you dumb fuck.” Nico restrains him from jumping to his feet, though the motion involved in sitting up alone is excruciating, so he relents and lays back.

 

“What do you mean good-ish? And who’s watching Nik?!”

 

 “Annabeth made some…revelations, yesterday, before what happened to you. I guess the court decided to call recess for a day or two while both sides reconfigure. Anyway, she’s not in court, so she can watch Nik.”

 

A relieved breath pushes out of his lips. “Thank god. I—” _can’t bear to lose anyone else_.

 

( _especially_ not them.)

 

“Oh, honey, thank god you’re awake!” Sally’s voice breaks the spiral of darkness his thoughts are spinning into, and he jerks his head up without remembering he’s injured until his body screeches at him to stop.

 

“Mom, what are you doing out of bed?”

 

It’s then that he realizes she’s in a wheelchair, pushing herself unsteadily towards him, the movements still unpracticed. Because she’s paralyzed, now.

 

(for a few moments, he’d been able to forget.)

 

“My baby,” she says wistfully, laying a hand on his cheek—and briefly, everything feels right in the world. His mom is here. Safe.

 

(It doesn’t last.)

 

“I’m so sorry, Percy.” Her voice is heart-wrenching, and he has no idea what she’s apologizing for, until she continues. “This is all my fault. I brought him into our home, and now he’s hurt you again, he’s—” a sob escapes her. “Your friends—your poor, noble friends, so brave and trying to help you. All my fault.”

 

“Mom, no—you know that’s not true,” he pleads with her.

 

“I can never thank Piper—you would be gone too, if she hadn’t called the police when she did. She saved you.” Sally lets herself have thirty more seconds of grief, then sits up straighter, attempting to even out her breathing. “I talked to Priyanka,” she says, referencing their lawyer, and Percy feels himself tense.

 

“I tried to tell her we wouldn’t be able to—”

 

“Perseus Jackson I know I didn’t raise you to interrupt me.” He closes his mouth guiltily. “Obviously, we no longer need her help with getting the protective order, although I did let her know Annabeth might have a need of her services when she gets back, depending on how things go. She said she can help us with a case for reparations and compensation against the state for not giving us the order before, and on behalf of Luke and Piper, honey. She—she’s willing to do it at a lower rate, although that means we’ll have to work around her schedule a little bit.”

 

“Mom, even at a lower rate—between the medical bills for the two of us, on top of the debt we already had…”

 

He’d always used to think the term “crippling debt” was just a metaphor.

 

Now, though, it would be impossible for them to ever pay it back—to get any apartments or loans to help, given their terrible credit thanks to Gabe. It would hang over them until they died.

 

“Well, actually—before I even told her about you being here, honey, she found something.”

 

Percy tries to remind himself not to get his hopes up, but the look in his mom’s eyes—if she can look even mildly relieved, with everything that’s happened, what Priyanka found is a big deal.

 

“A few years ago, New York issued some ‘Hospital Financial Assistance Law’,” she explains hesitantly. “It mandates that patients are issued either discounted or gratis fees if they’re below 150% of the federal poverty line.”

 

A halfhearted snort, followed by a wince, from Percy. “Well, that is _definitely_ us.”

 

“That it is.” She smooths his hair back from his face, and he can see the exhaustion in her eyes, beneath the strength she’s trying to project for him.

 

(The way she’s hiding each time she tries to cross her legs, each time she forgets she can’t stand up to press her lips to her son’s forehead.)

 

She won’t let him see how much she’s hurting for a while yet—not with everything he’s already dealing with. She’s here to be his rock, regardless of her own struggles.

 

(That’s what it means to have a child—what it _should_ mean, for every parent.)

 

The door to the room reopens, and a nurse steps in. Nico trails behind her—Percy hadn’t even seen him leave, the snake—and he tries to scowl at his cousin, but Nico raises his eyebrows blamelessly and mouths _‘five minutes. Told you.’_

 

He squeezes his mom’s hand tightly as the nurse begins to administer another round of drugs, and he can tell he’s starting to fall back asleep despite himself.

 

(despite how badly he needs to hear Annabeth’s voice, assure himself she’s okay; how badly he needs to beg Thalia for forgiveness, that the man she loved gave his love to save his own.)

 

As the world begins to darken, he’s torn. It’s bittersweet in the worst way; the problems that have haunted him for the longest time have been made irrelevant—Gabe is gone. _Finally_. His mom is safe, and he won’t have to worry about her not getting the treatment she needs because the spare change he can scrape together isn’t even enough for a consultation.

 

(It’s hard to feel like it matters, though. Hard to feel like anything matters.)

 

/

/

 

“What’s going on?”

 

By the time Annabeth bustles into the coffee shop, it’s clear the other two women have been waiting awhile. Nik sits on her hip, wide eyed, Annabeth too distraught for her son to be anywhere but attached to her.

 

(She can see it the moment the others realize he’s with her—the way they carefully take stock of his tiny body, looking for signs of the man who terrorized them.)

 

He stares around the room, wide-eyed, too distracted by the bright lights and colorful wall art to notice the tension; but then, the kid has been holed up in a hotel room for days, now, so the change of scenery is practically another world for him.

 

“Richards refused to tell us anything until we were all together,” Casey says nervously, setting down an empty coffee mug.

 

“A deal’s been struck.” Richards uses her no-nonsense voice. “I wanted to tell you all before I formally accept it, but the defense has agreed to plead guilty.”

 

Alexa’s face lights up, and tears of joy begin to fill Casey’s eyes.

 

(Months and months and _months_ of thinking this will all be for nothing, but he’s pleading guilty.)

 

It’s a miracle.

 

(Annabeth has never believed in miracles.)

 

She can see the look in Casey’s eyes—frustration, guilt. Something she’s not telling them. There’s more to the story.

 

Her grip on Nik tightens.

 

It’s unsurprising, really. And no matter, because she hasn’t bothered to get her hopes up. She learned better long ago.

 

(She’s not the girl who gets a happy ending.)

 

“What are the terms of the deal?”

 

Richards grimaces. “No additional charges—he pleads only to those initiated at the start of the proceedings, with the exception of a singular occasion rape charge which resulted in the conception of your son.” A nod to the infant in question, who hums nonsensically.

 

So the rest of it, what she’s gone through—off the table. The years of abuse and degradation. Extortion—which would’ve kept him locked up for so, so long.

 

(“Mmma,” Nik babbles, as he’s been doing for a few days now. She’d thought it coincidence, but the way he pats her face as he says it—“Ma _ma_ ” he repeats, and she knows he’s saying it intentionally.)

 

Not his very first word ( _hi_ ), but—it’s everything. And it’s happening now, in the midst of chaos and pain and frustration.

 

(The moment is magic, wrapped up in pain and fear, but _there_.)

 

“There’s more,” the attorney tells them, her face morphing back into stone. “We agree to recommend a two-year sentence to the judge.”

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Fire runs through Annabeth’s veins, and she can see outrage and shock on Casey and Alexa’s faces at the pronouncement as Alexa rants, the raised voice making Nik jump. “How can you even consider agreeing to that? A slap on the wrist, and without half of the ammunition against him now that Annabeth’s joined the case?

 

“I’m not ‘considering’ it, I’m accepting it. My notifying you prior is merely a courtesy.” Richards’s voice is icy, now. “I know this seems like garbage to you—and I know it’s not nearly justice, if such a thing is ever even possible when the crime has altered you permanently—but believe me, in the American justice system? This is as good as it gets.”

 

“We don’t have any say in you accepting this?” Casey demands.

 

“Nope. Just the prosecution,” Annabeth comments, devoid of emotion. “Convenient for her, another win on her record without all the tedious work that would’ve come next, and none of the risk of a loss.”

 

“Don’t you dare imply that I’m making this choice at all lightly.” A tone of warning laces the sentence. “You have no idea how rare of a win this is. Him being convicted—and agreeing to the conception charge so you can revoke his rights—it’s a _huge_ deal. From here on out, he’ll have to register as an offender, it’ll be on his record, any future charges—”

 

“But there shouldn’t _be_ any future charges!” Alexa argues. “He should be locked up until he’s a shriveled corpse—how is it fair that he gets to go on hurting people?”

 

( _Nothing about this has ever been fair_ , Annabeth thinks to herself.)

 

“I thought you were on our side—that we were in this together. But you don’t give a damn, do you?” Casey’s laugh is bitter, and Richards slams a hand to the table in response.

 

(Nik begins to whimper, Annabeth rubbing his back gently and making clicking noises with her tongue until he calms.)

 

“I don’t take cases pro bono because I ‘ _don’t give a damn_ ’,” she hisses, the words acid. “Did you never consider why I agreed to do this case for free—why _I_ approached you about me taking it on? Attorneys don’t do that when they don’t give a fuck; the time I’ve spent on this case could’ve gone to others that would’ve brought profit and bolstered my reputation, but I am _here,_ where I have been for _months,_ because there is nothing I want more than that monster behind bars.

 

“I’m agreeing to this deal because it is a _win_ for us—yes, us—whether you get that or not. I’m agreeing because I had all the evidence in the world, but _my_ rapist was found not guilty, because in the twenty years I’ve been practicing law since then, I’ve seen too many of the disgusting men I’ve prosecuted walk away scot free when they should be in solitary. You’re being offered an actual conviction. The rest of us aren’t so lucky.”

 

And she’s right—this is as lucky as it gets.

 

This “lucky” equals two years in a cushy cell, after which the three women with clenched fists will look over their shoulders every day in fear of him. In fear that if it’s not them he’s attacking, it’s someone else.

 

( _Lucky_.)

 

Part of Annabeth is relieved, of course. The custody battle she’s feared as long as Nik’s existed is no longer an issue—the son in her arms, safe from the beast who’d destroyed everything she’d ever held dear before him. And however short the sentence, people will _know_. That he did this—that he’s _capable_ of this, however sweet and charming and generous he may seem.

 

But it’s a bit hard to care about that side of things.

 

(This is what her government, her country, thinks her violation is worth. Two years, if that.)

 

Three women’s bodies no longer seem their own. She doesn’t know that there’s ever been a day, since it all began, that she hasn’t thought about it.

 

 _Every. Day._ For so many years, and countless to come.

 

(The justice system thinks that’s worth two years.)

 

She’s so _lucky_.

 

“I have to go,” she tells them, throat constricting as she pushes away from the table, Nik’s tiny fingers curling into a haphazard curl of her hair. It’s all too much—this, seeing Octavian, the grief, Percy’s injuries—she can’t _do_ it. “I need to get home for a funeral.”


	23. when angels fall

The sound of Nik’s crying seeps through the bathroom door, and Annabeth takes a deep breath, locking eyes with herself in the mirror one last time.

 

She’d known better than to put on makeup—she’s already cried three times since she woke up, and knows there will probably be less than a sum total of an hour throughout the rest of the day wherein she’s _not_. She did her hair nicely, though, an intricate braid, multi-purposed to both make her look a bit nicer and keep the curls from tangling in front of her face while she breaks down.

 

The black of her dress is bright, a thrift shop purchase specifically for today.

 

(She hadn’t had an occasion to wear all black since a decade ago.)

 

It was her father’s funeral, then.

 

Of course, this isn’t technically a funeral—that entails actual burial, and what with cremation being less than a third the price, it wasn’t much of a choice.

 

Nik’s crying abates, and for a moment she’s filled with terror, until a familiar hand taps on the door. “You almost ready, wise girl?”

 

 _No_. The not-ready-ness permeates every cell of her body—she’s not ready to say goodbye.

 

(How could she ever be ready to say goodbye to her best friend? The first man she ever trusted?)

 

A shiver, and she opens the door, not meeting Percy’s eyes.

 

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

 

His hand trembles as it reaches for hers; she knows this is hard for him too. He and Piper got closer than she’d ever anticipated, and he and Luke—

 

_How is Thalia ever going to move on?_

 

By the time they arrive at the church putting on the service, the one Nico’s a member of, most of their friends are already there.

 

Jason kneels near the alter, hands clasped and face pressed into the steps, but shoulders heaving enough for the rest of them to figure how well he’s doing. He’s the only one of them besides Nico who’s religious, so Annabeth’s best guess is that he’s praying.

 

(Demanding an explanation. Not understanding why, what purpose could be worth this. Thinking that God knows best but not comprehending what could possibly make this the right thing.)

 

On the other end of the spectrum, Leo lies sprawled on the front pew. He lifts his head as they approach, smiling at Nik and handing him a handmade toy from his pocket—but where they’re close enough, Annabeth catches the scent of tequila rolling off of him in waves.

 

“Leo—man, how much have you had to drink? When was the last time you showered?” Percy asks gently, blinking his eyes rapidly to keep from crying before the service even starts.

 

“I have done nothing but drink since she’s been gone.” Even as he says it, he pulls the flask out of his jacket and takes a swig. “None of it matters. And don’t you dare tell me she wouldn’t have wanted this—we’ll never get to know what she wanted. Because she’s _gone._ ”

 

Annabeth nods, eyeing him speculatively. She hands Nik to Percy carefully, pressing a kiss to the little boy’s forehead, before dropping down next to Leo and snatching the flask from his hand. His and Percy’s eyes both widen as she chugs form it.

 

“Yeah?” Leo asks, dragging himself to a sitting position.

 

“It’s been a hell of a week.” She can see the worry lining Percy’s face, and motions for him to relax. “I won’t get hammered. I promise. You know I won’t get that out of it while Nik’s here.”

 

She presses her shoulder to Leo’s and he scowls, like he knows what she’s doing, but gives her a nod of respect and leans against her in return.

 

Thalia makes her way back from the fellowship hall where she’s been hiding out, alone, earbuds in and blasting Breaking Benjamin loud enough for them all to hear.

 

(If it were any other day, Annabeth would reprimand her about the damage to her eardrums, but—not now.)

 

“Where the hell _is_ Nico, anyway?” Thalia snaps, the pain creeping into her voice.

 

“He’s on his way, Thals,” Percy promises. “You know he wouldn’t miss it.

 

Annabeth finds herself staring at the extra-large pictures of their two lost friends, a giant collage between the two. Shots of Piper laughing, shots of her looking like a model; the visibility of her withering away hits her with a pang. The more recent pictures—a bit more energy and light in her.

 

(She was _just_ on her way to being okay.)

 

Annabeth had worried so much about what Piper was doing to herself, she’d never thought to worry about anything else killing her.

 

She looks back at the collage, and lets out an excruciating gasp—there, in the middle of it all. A faded image of her, Thalia, and Luke.

 

“I didn’t know he’d kept it till I turned his stuff upside down last night. Had a bit of a breakdown,” Thalia confesses, rubbing at her face. “Found it sticking out of the notebook he kept while he was in jail.”

 

“I can’t believe he kept it safe, all these years,” she replies, unable to take her eyes off the picture. “I’ll have to get a copy to frame for my wall.”

 

A one armed hug from Thalia—as much as she could hope for, really.

 

The door to the sanctuary creaks open; in walks a disheveled-looking man, covered in stubble, who looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

 

“Can I help you?” Annabeth asks, voice raspy.

 

The man’s face contorts with anguish. “I’m here for—he told me she was—” he presses a fist to his mouth, like he can’t contain his pain.

 

The others are still confused, but in this moment, Annabeth and Sally both _know_.

 

(There’s only one thing on this earth that could hurt that bad.)

 

“My daughter, Piper…” he trails off, and their fears are confirmed. “I—I was told this was her memorial. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner, but I couldn’t—”

 

(Couldn’t get out of bed, couldn’t book a flight, couldn’t do _anything_ knowing that his daughter was gone.)

 

(His fucking _daughter_ —he would swear she just learned to count to ten, how can she be gone?)

 

“Mr. Mclean,” Percy greets him, approaching the man who’s falling apart while Nik says _“hi hi HI hi”_ on a loop in his arms.

 

“You must be Percy Jackson. Thank—thank you _so much_ for contacting me. I…if I hadn’t been here, had found out about it after the fact…I don’t know what I would have done.”

 

Annabeth, remembering where her head was at after she lost the baby, Nico, remembering his own mindset after Bianca’s death…well, they can guess what he would’ve done.

 

(Better not to think about it.)

 

“Of course, sir. I know you and Piper hadn’t spoken in a while, but…she really loved you. We talked a lot about you.”

 

There’s not much else to be said—not that anyone would have the energy to hold a conversation, even if there were.

 

Again, the door swings open; this time with a slam, the kind in a league all its own, powered by the all-consuming rage of a teenager with a reason to be upset.

 

Twenty or so kids, ranging from twelve to twenty-two, trail inside. Many of them wear ill-fitting clothes, bags beneath their eyes, expressions sullen.

 

At the end of the procession, the only person Annabeth knows who could rival them for angst.

 

(Seeing him in black is nothing out of the ordinary.)

 

“What—” she starts to ask, until she begins to recognize them.

 

Luke’s kids—so many for whom he was the only positive role model they’d ever had.

 

Nico gives her a half-hearted attempt at a smile. “I’ve been seeing Will,” he says, nodding towards the oldest of the bunch, who’d kept coming to the youth center even after becoming an adult, helping out and keeping an eye on younger half siblings. “It was his idea. Knew they’d all want to be here. Sorry we're late.”

 

Of course— _of course_ they wanted to be here. She wants to beat herself up for it not crossing her mind, but…she’s so exhausted and empty already, it’s hard to be any more down on herself.

 

(And it’s the kind of thing that reminds everyone how important Nico is—how important the quiet ones who listen more than they speak, who truly _see_ the world around them, are.)

 

Even on this darkest of days, somehow, there are specks of light that make her think maybe things can be almost okay again. Someday, anyway.

 

/

 

The rest feels like a blur.

 

For a while, she feels cried out, too drained to feel any sadder. Not many more people show up—they hadn’t broadcasted the services, regardless, because they wanted it to be real, and personal, and not everyone who’d ever met the dead bemoaning what a tragedy it was when their lives wouldn’t change.

 

Almost everyone takes a turn speaking. There’s no need of a microphone, and they sit in a circle on the floor, sharing favorite memories and the characteristics and habits they’d all miss most. There’s almost as much laughter as there are tears, in the end.

 

(Pictures of Piper and Nico at a _Three Days Grace_ concert, the time Leo challenged Luke to arm wrestle without the latter considering the former’s hand would be slippery with grease)

 

(Tristan retelling the story of Piper learning to talk, chattering away and somehow picking up both rudimentary Spanish and French from cartoons while he was at work; Thalia mentioning Luke renting a bounce house for a youth group event and the kids informing everyone he had only done so because _he_ wanted the contraption.)

 

Jason, recalling the time Piper joked that he’d have to marry her someday, and he realized he wanted nothing more; telling them about the ways she’d stood up to bullies in their classes, and never faltered when accusations were leveled her way.

 

Zoe, learning to trust Luke when every instinct within her told her to run. The kids he taught to ride bikes—one who he picked up from a drug dealer’s when a shootout began to erupt.

 

The day Luke found her and Thalia—when her seven year old self flew at him with a knife before biting him hard enough to leave a scar. The love with which he looked at Nik, despite having been gone from her life much longer than he’d ever been in it.

 

The first day she met Piper.

 

(The first time she opened up to anyone since Thalia. The first other person outside the hospital she let hold Nik.)

 

Percy’s voice cracking—the pranks he and Piper pulled on each other. Opening up about how each of them felt so, so inferior, so responsible for holding it together and staying in control enough for the people around them. Luke’s words to him in the darkest hour, his mother unconscious.

 

(The first man he’d ever had to truly consider family.)

 

They finish by blasting music, an amalgamation playlist of both of their lost ones’ favorite songs, so different and yet somehow fusing into something familiar.

 

(Annabeth isn’t the type to believe in ghosts, but if she did, this is the moment she would swear there’s a warmth with her that’s not her own.)

 

And she loves Percy, loves Thalia, and wants to grieve with them both—but not right now. This grief is all her own, not one she can bear to share or reconcile, collective pain being somehow different.

 

(This—this is all consuming.)

 

She slips away from the crowd under the guise of changing and feeding Nik, but makes her way to a quiet hallway, staring at the bible verses plastered along the wall in confusion.

 

It’s just so _hard_. She lost her dad when she was young , of course, but…she was young. They’d never been particularly close, and she’d started feeling alone in the world long before then.

 

And when she’d been separated from Thalia and Luke, she’d at least known they were _okay_ , but this—

 

(she’d _just_ gotten him back. and Piper was _just_ starting to get better.)

 

She hears the footsteps ten seconds before he says _hey_ , but she’s pretty sure that was intentional; Nico has always been good about noticing who gets jumpy if you surprise them.

 

“You should be in there,” she rasps, but he shakes his head.

 

“I think you need me more than they do.”

 

Annabeth snorts, but doesn’t argue further. Instead, she stares at the cross hanging across the hall from her.

 

“I wondered if it’d be you or Thalia,” Nico comments offhandedly, and she turns to him, confused.

 

“Come again?”

 

“Having an existential crisis about the universe. Death always brings them out—makes people either come to God, whichever one they’re suited to, or turn from religion altogether.”

 

“You…losing Bianca was what made you ‘come to Jesus’?”

 

He smirks. “Well, actually, it initially made me refuse to believe in God—decided even if there _was_ one, I didn’t want anything to do with them. Not after they’d let her die. But then…” he sighs, looks at her pensively. “Then I realized I couldn’t handle life if this was it—if not believing meant she was just…gone. I have to believe in a God, because I can’t handle the world if she’s not happy somewhere out there.” A meaningful motion to the semi-colon tattoo on his wrist—the one from just after his attempt.

 

“I—yeah. Both of those concepts are fighting in my head right now.” And they both _hurt—_ because either she _does_ believe in a God who was willing to watch the most wonderful people go, for whatever reason that she doesn’t think could justify it; or she doesn’t, and every ember of their existence has been snuffed out. Both  conclusions are painful. “I don’t think I know where on the spectrum I’ll end up falling,” she admits.

 

“That’s because both rationales make sense. And I mean, you can always change your mind, you know?” He shrugs. “I’m religious. But I wasn’t always. Leo, he grew up as Catholic as can be—now he’s a diehard atheist. Zoe’s Muslim, Will’s family is Jewish but he doesn’t practice…there’s room for wherever you wind up. Just know you’re not alone in the indecision, yeah?”

 

He hugs her, at which point she realizes this is possibly the most physical affection she’s ever gotten from him.

 

She makes her way back to the sanctuary, where Percy patiently sits with puffy eyes, Nik crawling about on the floor in front of him.

 

They’re silent on the way back to the apartment, both lost inside their own grief, when the song comes on—one of Piper’s favorites, the kind of pop hit every teenage girl wants to deny liking at some point before they realize being like other girls isn’t a bad thing.

 

Annabeth starts humming it under her breath, and Percy squawks out the lyrics, and by the time they park they’re both smiling and crying and belting every word, hands clasped over the gear shift—trembling, but together.

 

They sing another as they make their way upstairs—obnoxiously, giggling and knowing this is _exactly_ what Piper would want them to be doing. Unequivocally.

 

And Annabeth says, “Luke would be disappointed we’re not using his death as an excuse to eschew social etiquette,” and Percy says, “hold that thought,” and slides back into the room in a onesie, handing her a can of half-full whipped cream and his fluffiest blanket, despite the fact that it’s not even three in the afternoon.

 

They watch _The Walking Dead_ for Luke, and _The Flash_ for Piper, and _The Princess Diaries_ for the hell of it. They only move from the futon to go to the bathroom or get more snacks, Nik crawling across them to get into a new position every so often, and—it’s so _good_. She’s in so much pain, so much turmoil, and the need to write her victim impact statement sneaks around the fringes of her mind, but _life is short_.

 

And she hates that this is what it took for her to realize it, but it doesn’t matter in the end; because she’s here, with the little boy she made, and the guy she loves, and a fuck ton of popcorn and rom-coms. She’s allowed to be happy, to relish in these little moments of pure love00Luke and Piper would’ve kicked her ass if she didn’t.

 

When Nik falls asleep, she practically jumps Percy, consuming his mouth and practically molding her body to his own, and he looks apprehensive until she rolls her eyes and reassures him that she doesn’t want to have sex for the first time the day of their family’s funeral.

 

(But—soon. For the first time it feels like something she might be able to do—like she gets to decide what her body does and does not do.)

 

She’s not “over it”—when she wakes up the next morning, when it hits her again (as it will every day for the next year or two, and then slightly less often, maybe) that they’re gone—she loses it.

 

(Again.)

 

Breaks down crying and pressing her nails into her palms until they draw blood.

 

(Again.)

 

But she picks herself up. Pulls it together. Makes her way to work, touching the photo of the two she’s lost hanging on her front door.

 

(For them.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end is SO CLOSE I have no idea how to feel about it. Next chapter will be more uplifting—and possibly the last before the epilogue????? Ahhhh????
> 
> As always, thank you SO MUCH for your kind reviews. I adore y’all, and I would not have made it this far into the fic without your support. (I’ll save the getting really emo for the end bc that’ll be a long paragraph and I don’t need the tears rn)
> 
> In other news, if you want to read something by me that DOESN’T make us both cry, I posted a new jily soulmate one-shot to make me feel better when I couldn’t get this chapter to come out right, check it out if you’re so inclined. 
> 
> Much love—will update soon!


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